One Week
by ElleSmith
Summary: In the year AC 207, ten years after the end of the war, ex-Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell suddenly shows up at the doorstep of his ex-comrade, Heero Yuy. While trying to keep his post-war life a secret, Duo soon discovers that Heero is also hiding something from him. By the end of one week, a dark secret will be revealed. One week, two secrets: one more horrible than the other.
1. Prologue

**One Week: Intro, Warnings & Notes:**

**Disclaimer:**

GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes.

Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

**Summary:**

War is fought by people guided by powerful convictions. A warrior living a life without war is therefore faithless. For years they've been trained for battle, ideology drilled into their minds, fueling their will to fight for freedom. But when the conflict between Earth and the Colonies was finally over, their kind of faith could no longer guide them. Lost in a world they helped to create, two such warriors end up building themselves very different lives. Two worlds are about to collide:

In the year AC 207, ten years after the end of the war, ex-Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell suddenly shows up at the doorstep of his ex-comrade, Heero Yuy. While trying to keep his post-war life a secret, Duo soon discovers that Heero is also hiding something from him. By the end of one week, a dark secret will be revealed.

One week, two secrets:

one more horrible than the other.

**Warnings:**

- Reference to drug and alcohol abuse

- Homosexual themes

- Sex **(for later chapters, not posted on this website)**

- Non-consensual sex **(for later chapters, not posted on this website)**

- Violence

**Fandom Warnings Classification:**

- Original Female Character (OFC)

- Original Male Character (OMC)

- 1+2/2+1

- 1+R/R+1

- 1+OMC

- 1xOFC

- 2xOFC

- 2x1

**IMPORTANT NOTE I:** Please note that I am an avid 1x2/2x1 fan, but even though this story is centered on Heero and Duo, and it has a distinct homosexual theme, **it is NOT a romantic 1x2/2x1 get together story**. This story is about the kind of love that transcends the romantic or erotic. Nevertheless, I hope you would be willing to give it a shot.

**IMPORTANT NOTE II:**

**"One Week" is a 250K long work of fan fiction. It is complete, so you can trust it to be posted start to finish, one chapter at a time. Soon I will be offering a link to the full eBook version on my profile page.**

Also, this story's overall rating is not suitable for this archive. Therefore, **only the suitable chapters will be posted on fan fiction dot net** (chapters 1-13, which are rated M). The rest of the story (19 chapters in total) will be posted on the AO3 website. I will let you know when I'm done posting here and I will post a link to the story on AO3 as well as the full eBook version.

**Author's Note:**

This story has been in the making since early 2009. It has accompanied me through many rough patches and, to be fair, some good times as well. I think it's safe to say that this story has matured along with me over these past six years. Some scenes I wrote a long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime... when I was a different version of me.

I never expected to drag it on for this long. I wrote it in long intervals, whenever the need to vent through writing arose. You might say that One Week has been a sort of therapist.

I've found it especially hard to finish this story. The last three scenes in chapter 18 were put on hold for over a year (!) before I forced myself to just sit down and write them. In a way, I guess I was afraid of letting this story go, seeing it through... finishing therapy, so to speak. Now that I have, I must say I'm relieved. My only hope is that this long effort was worth it and that at least a few people out there would read this from beginning to end and maybe even like it enough to drop me a positive note here and there.

It would be very presumptuous of me to say that this story is the pinnacle of my writing – because it's not. As mentioned above, I've done a lot of growing up since I first got started on this story and I suspect that my writing has changed (improved, hopefully) as well over time. Nevertheless, One Week is very dear to my heart. Therefore, your kindness will be appreciated when leaving a constructive review.

And without any further ado, I give you One Week, straight from my bleeding heart and aching typing fingers... Enjoy.

Elle

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><p><strong>Gundam Wing<strong>

**One Week**

**A Fan Fiction Work by Elle Smith**

**Prologue**

He was surrounded by solid darkness, swallowed by silence and hidden from the world. In this unnerving stillness everything melted into a murky haze soaked with pain. It came and it went, like ripples on the sand. Pain hazing in and pain hazing out; nothing else existed.

Then there was a sound. His own labored breathing echoed in the fog. Gradually, he became aware of the unbearable dryness in his mouth. His breath came out loud and heavy through his chapped lips. His tongue was dry, swollen. His nose was broken; throbbing with pulses of agony. The persistent ache pulsating through his entire body suggested that the tender bones in his face weren't the only ones to have been fractured brutally. Despite the pain in his limbs, ribs and gut, the broken nose hurt the worse. It was stuffy, clogged with blood and mucus, allowing no air passage whatsoever. It felt like solid rock hanging in the center of his face. He breathed heavily through his mouth, listening to the sound of his raspy breath echo within the small holding cell.

It was so dark. He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or closed. By the stinging sensation, he assumed that they were open. Moaning miserably, he allowed his heavy eyelids to flutter shut and finally rest. He lay perfectly still; afraid that even the slightest movement would stir more pain.

He was lying sprawled prone on the floor after being thrown into an enemy prison cell. He had been tossed there by some soldier after hours of torturous integration. The enemy was _considerate_ enough not to pump him full of drugs and truth serum; they didn't want to risk a lethal overdose due to his young age, but that didn't stop them from beating him up in an attempt to get him talking.

Of course, no matter how brutally they tried to get information out him, he didn't let out one crumb of it spill from his mouth. Gundam pilot 02, known to a few as Duo Maxwell, was one tough nut to crack. He took pride in his stubbornness. His cocky attitude and witty street-smart remarks could easily drive any man up the wall. It came in handy during interrogation, but his words had lost their sting after one officer got fed up with him and punched him straight in the nose, breaking it. It was hard to sound nasty while speaking with a stuffy, nasal voice.

They were going to execute him on live television. The bastards didn't care how it would look like if they killed a fifteen year old kid during live broadcast. He couldn't play the age card twice. OZ wanted to make an example out of him for all Colony citizens to see. If they had to kill a minor to prove their point, they would. Duo supposed that considering his recent terrorist attacks on OZ bases, one could hardly call him an _innocent minor_. Many lives had been taken; casualties of war, but victims nonetheless. None of those soldiers stood a chance against his superior firepower. Now, OZ was out for his blood; it was only natural.

Groaning wretchedly, Duo struggled to lift his heavy and aching body off the floor, somehow managing to rise on all fours. His hair, which was gathered into an unusually long braid, fell over his shoulder and kissed the filthy floor. His arms and legs trembled as he tried to remain up. The effort proved too great for his abused body and he retched, breathless, letting out a series of watery coughs. He felt wetness at the corner of his mouth and wiped it away with the back of his shaky hand. It wasn't difficult to assume that he had just coughed out blood.

Fatigued, Duo sighed heavily and maneuvered his hurting body slowly to a sitting position, leaning tiredly against the wall behind him. Looking up ahead, he could see the thin strips of light framing the door.

"This sucks," he muttered; his gruff voice carried a faint Southern American accent as it echoed within the small cell. He wasn't sure to whom he was directing his bitter remark; perhaps to God, if the son-of-a-bitch was listening. He never seemed to spare him any of his _divine_ attention, so Duo had long stopped talking to God. Life has taught him better than to believe in some unknown and allegedly benevolent power. Religious faith was for the deluded; those whose lives were comfortable enough, those few gratified souls who wished to thank their Maker for their good fortune. Then there were the bitter ones, who took comfort in cussing their Maker with obscene accusations, blaming God for their every misfortune. Duo had no need to praise or condemn God for anything. He simply ignored the prospect of his existence, because believing would hurt too much. He didn't want to end up as one of the _"bitter ones"_ waiting for salvation and some so-called _divine intervention_.

No; God was out of the question. Even when he did feel like turning to the _Almighty_, he stopped himself or else he would end up feeling foolish for even trying. There were only two things Duo allowed himself to believe in: one was that his fight was a just one, and the second was that death was the only mystical force anyone could ever put their trust in. In his eyes, there was only one true and undeniable force ruling the world – and that was _death_. Death was a universal truth, a constant that made all men equal. Unlike _God_, it never failed to show itself when needed; it was trustworthy. That kind of firm and definite power was something Duo could believe in.

If there was ever such an all-mighty powerful force people could refer to as _God_, it was death: The God of Death. Duo had learned to accept that he has become a faithful messenger of this God. It was an arrogant point a view, perhaps, but it was the only way he could justify the massive amounts of blood on his hands. Most would consider him a hateful terrorist, a young and brainwashed fanatic acting under the deluded teachings of some maniac with an agenda for destruction. Even the people he fought for accused him of being an extremist causing them nothing but harm and further oppression. He believed in what he was doing and why he was doing it, but he had to admit that his fight for freedom was a dirty one. OZ certainly weren't planning on letting him get away with it and the worst part was that the Colonies were playing along. The price of fighting for freedom was becoming heavy and his own home-colony has been turned against him. It was the same for his comrades; they were being betrayed and alienated by the very people they fought for.

With a silent hiss, the electric sliding door to his cell opened. A blinding column of white light tumbled into the room, streaking the floor with its harsh brightness. Duo squinted against the brilliant assault. He heard a low thudding sound as someone threw an unconscious body into the room. For a split second, Duo's heart jumped to his throat as he figured that OZ must have caught one of his comrades. It was only a few seconds later, when his eyes adjusted to the light, that Duo was proven otherwise.

A lone figure was standing at the doorway; a dark silhouette against a bright white background. The figure was male; a short and lean teenage boy. He stood rigidly at the doorway, shoulders drawn back and his palms balled into fists at the sides of his body. Apparently, he had just tossed an unconscious enemy soldier into the cell.

Duo recognized him easily. The familiar sight of his stiff posture and his scruffy hairdo were a dead giveaway.

"Heero, what a surprise," he greeted his comrade with a hoarse, nasal voice, struggling to speak over the bothersome blockage in his nose. "You really are some _superhuman_," he added as a poor excuse for a joke, congratulating the other adolescent boy on his successful infiltration to a highly secured military base; an accomplishment made against all likelihood. Only Heero was capable of defeating such grim odds.

The fifteen year old teenage-soldier stood confidently at the doorway, observing Duo silently. He was dressed casually in a bright-blue turtleneck shirt and dark trousers, as though he had just gone out for a day at school instead of infiltrated an enemy base. He didn't seem to be carrying any weapons on him. The only deadly thing about him was the harsh look in his eyes. He was looking down at Duo with a pair of firm Prussian blue eyes. The sight was overwhelming; his eyes glimmered frostily under the harsh white light, like cold hard jewels. They betrayed none of the boy's thoughts; only conveying his powerful presence.

Heero's eyes carried the most intense gaze Duo had ever seen. So deeply focused on the boy's ruthless blue eyes, Duo didn't even notice that Heero had pulled out a pistol until he heard the barrel being cocked. The sound echoed hollowly inside the small prison cell. Duo watched numbly as Heero lifted his arm up elegantly, pointing the gun at him. He looked Duo squarely in the eye. His glare was cold and calculated; detached, as though he wasn't pointing a weapon at a comrade, rather just another faceless enemy soldier.

The two young terrorists gazed quietly at one another. Heero hadn't pulled the trigger yet and Duo decided to use the opportunity to offer some witty last words.

"You're just in time too," he rasped bitterly; "They was gonna use me and ma Gundam as God damned _propaganda_," he muttered and struggled to stand up on shaky legs. He used the wall behind him for support, dragging himself up slowly. If he was going to be executed anyway, he will die standing on his own two feet.

"If I'm gonna die, then this seems like da best way ta go," he assured Heero with half a smile. There was no resentment or sarcasm in his voice, just plain acceptance. He knew what their orders were; Heero was merely doing what he would have done in his place. OZ could never be allowed to use him as a damn publicity stunt. Odds of escaping together were slim to none, so there was only one viable option: he should be silenced, right here, right now.

Duo raised his head up proudly and closed his eyes.

"Go ahead 'n shoot me," he mumbled behind closed eyes, feeling the aim of Heero's pistol on him as though the barrel was actually pressed against his forehead.

Silence pounded in his ears as he waited for the shot that would end his life. He could actually _feel_ Heero's finger begin pulling the trigger. He clenched his closed eyes shut even tighter. This was it. The God of Death was about to claim him too. He was going home, joining his victims and loved ones in the afterlife.

Seconds passed, but nothing happened.

Confused, Duo opened his eyes. There was a wounded look in his eyes as he gazed up at his executioner. Was Heero actually hesitating? That was insulting! He wasn't afraid of facing his own demise. Or perhaps Heero was hesitating because he was aiming a gun at a fellow pilot? No, that was unlikely. Even Duo was smart enough to know that their acquaintance was negligible. Surely the _Perfect Soldier_ knew better than to let their wobbly alliance get in the way of their mission.

"Hey, you're gonna do it, right?" Duo asked, offended by Heero's hesitancy. He didn't want Heero's pity. He knew what he was signing up for when he had joined the Resistance. It was either fight for freedom for all Colony citizens or fight for scraps on the streets. The choice had been an easy one.

"If that is what you want," Heero finally spoke and his low, quiet voice vibrated through Duo like small electric charges. Hearing Heero's voice was a rare occurrence. The teenage soldier never spoke much and even when he did, his steady tone was always just above a whisper, leaving an awe-inspiring impression that one was in the presence of greatness. The young man's temperance had the power to stir the hearts of those few fortunate souls who had heard him speak and lived to tell about it. Duo was flooded with a familiar sense of appreciation. He was one of less than a handful of people Heero graced with the sound of his voice – and that was no small achievement.

He watched, speechless, as the young soldier lowered his weapon down and turned to the door again.

"Your right arm is still operational, right?" It was more of a statement than a question; Heero never asked questions. He tossed his pistol towards Duo without even looking his way; as expected, his aim was perfect.

Duo caught it swiftly; his arm flew up to catch the gun by pure reflex. He gaped at Heero as the boy walked over to secure the rifle belonging to the soldier he had neutralized earlier. Dazed, he watched Heero hoist the rifle's strap over his shoulder and walk back into the cell, towards him.

Was he dreaming, or had Heero just gone against regulations and spared his life?

_No_, Duo realized as he felt Heero take his useless left arm and wrap it around his strong shoulders, allowing Duo to lean on him for support; _Heero just saved ma life_. _I'll be damned, _he thought to himself as Heero sneaked his muscular arm around his waist and helped him limp out of the cell; _it looks like I actually made a friend in this God damned world._

Duo couldn't help but smile. He caught Heero's disapproving glance and hurried to wipe the silly grin off his face.

Heero guided him to the doorway, where he stopped and peeked out into the hallway, looking left and right to ensure that their route was still secured.

"So where's your Gundam?" Duo asked just to break his comrade's heavy silence. The young soldier was so focused on his mission that it was beginning to make Duo feel uneasy, like he was being carried around as a piece of cargo.

"On Earth," Heero whispered a brisk reply, "It would be too conspicuous in space. Then I would get caught like you did."

"_Well excuse me!_" Duo muttered with a sarcastic tone that emphasized his light Southern accent. He rolled his eyes at Heero's cold arrogance. "So, _smartass_, how do ya plan on gettin' us outta here?"

"I came here to kill you," Heero informed him matter-of-factly as he scanned the corridor one last time before heading out. "I haven't devised an escape plan yet."

"_Brilliant_," Duo scolded haughtily; "You never thought about how to get your own damn ass outta here?" he grumbled cynically and watched Heero pull out a long, slim device out of his pocket.

"What if we _both_ get caught?"

"Then it's as simple as silencing two mouths," Heero replied coldly as he pressed the trigger on a long-range detonator.

An explosion could be heard from somewhere nearby. The metallic walls around them shook violently. Alarms wailed and red sirens flashed as the base switched to tactical alert. As havoc spread through the facility, Heero expertly slipped them past security, carrying Duo by keeping his arm wrapped around the wounded pilot's torso as they floated through the corridors in near zero-gravity.

They reached a dead end at the end of a corridor, which was blocked by metal bars. Without a word, Heero let go of Duo, leaving him to float next to him, and reached for the bars. His muscular arms flexed with much effort as he worked to bend two bars enough to make room to squeeze through. He groaned quietly under the strain, his knuckles turning white as his grip around the bars tightened. They actually budged.

Duo gaped in disbelief. Heero didn't wait for him to come out of his daze and slipped an arm around him again, hoisting him back up. Duo placed his injured left arm around Heero's firm shoulders for additional support.

"It's always the quiet ones who're the flashiest," he muttered to himself as Heero guided them to safety.

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><p>Thanks to Heero's sharp tactical mind and ingenuity, they made it out in one piece. In his wretched state, Duo had been of little use. He could barely hold his gun properly and so at some point Heero snatched it away from him and shoved the portable detonator into his hand instead. Duo was in charge of activating the explosives Heero had strategically placed around the cargo-bay. OZ soldiers ran around frantically in an effort to stop the fires from spreading, while Heero carried Duo towards the Mobile Suits hangar.<p>

By then, the Wing pilot had devised an escape plan.

The hangar was full of menacing man-operated Leo Mobile Suits and Mobile Dolls which operated on artificial intelligence. In a brilliant move, Heero put on an OZ spacesuit and fired at a Mobile Doll, fooling the automatic fighting machine to target people dressed in such suits. The Dolls activated one by one and charged their weapons, responding to the danger Heero had posed. By the time the automatons came to life, the young pilot had slipped out of the suit and left it on the hangar's floor.

Spacesuit-clad soldiers charged into the hangar and were immediately targeted by the massive Dolls. In the chaos that soon developed, Heero hacked into the hangar's catapult system and launched two unmanned Leo suits into space. The Mobile Dolls detected them as a secondary threat and turned to attack the Leo suits as well, including the unmanned units still standing in the hangar.

All the while, Duo sat behind a few crates in the far end of the hangar, watching in awe as Heero duped the automatic Mobile Suits to turn on their makers and annihilate the base. Flames burst all around him as the hangar filled with gunfire and secondary explosions. Soon Heero emerged from within the flames and smoke, coming back for him. He had commandeered a space shuttle and hurried to carry Duo inside before the hangar collapsed on top of them. They escaped undetected, leaving the C-102 OZ base in shambles.

For a quiet, aloof and stealthy guy, Heero sure had a flare for the dramatic.

The shuttle was designated for transporting and deploying OZ troops; it was small and narrow. Other than the two cockpit chairs, there were two opposite rows of seats for the soldiers, one at each side of the shuttle, separated by a small gap. Duo now lay on one row, his eyes closed and his incapacitated arm draped over his abdomen. Heero had given him something for the pain; a sedative he had found in a first-aid kit. It made Duo a little woozy and so he lay still, allowing his beaten and injured body some rest after their whole extravaganza at the OZ base.

Although only half-conscious, Duo forced his tired eyes to flutter open. His vision was assaulted by the shuttle's harsh white light. He gazed numbly at the metal walls around him before slowly shifting his gaze to the front of the shuttle.

The shuttle had an open cockpit, inseparable from the rest of the interior. Heero was sitting on the pilot's chair, working the controls. Duo observed the way Heero's hands flew expertly over the consoles. Once he was done setting the helm, he raised a hand up to conceal a wide yawn. In a rare display of his humanity – most likely believing that Duo was asleep – Heero stretched his arms up above his head, then behind his back, drawing his shoulder blades closer with a quiet groan. Duo could hear his bones crack as pressure was relieved. He watched silently as the young pilot bent his head forward while bringing his chin toward his chest and then backwards, until he was looking up, stretching his neck muscles. He then moved his head gently from side to side, pressing an ear to his shoulder. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, easing the soreness.

Duo observed him guiltily. Heero must have gone through quite a rough ride coming for him, not to mention all those crazy stunts he had pulled to get them out of that OZ base. Heero had done the impossible for him; he had literally walked through fire for him. He had done it with great poise and zero hesitation; all for the sake of a no-good-L2-trash who had recklessly botched up his mission and risked everything they were fighting for. He should have been silenced or at least punished for his shortcomings, but instead Heero had chosen to breach protocol.

It was ironic that the only person to show him compassion since childhood was a boy he often accused of lacking any trace of humanity. He didn't deserve Heero's grace, but he was thankful for it.

With much effort, Duo pushed his aching body up to a sitting position. Very quietly, he stood up and pushed off the wall, gaining a slow momentum. Zero gravity allowed him to hover soundlessly towards the pilot's chair. He approached Heero while the teenage pilot continued his neck exercises. He grabbed the back of the pilot's chair to stop his momentum and placed a hand on Heero's shoulder. He could feel the other boy tense rigidly at his friendly touch; he had surprised him.

Heero ceased his exercises and resumed tending the shuttle's helm and navigation controls. The tired look in his eyes was replaced by a familiar stoic expression.

"Maybe you should get some shuteye," Duo offered in a raspy, fatigued voice. Due to his broken nose, he sounded like he had a terrible cold. "I can take over for a while."

"I'm fine," Heero insisted and shrugged Duo's hand off his shoulder. "Lie down," he ordered; "It'll be a while before I can get you to a doctor."

"I feel better now." Duo ignored his request and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair instead.

"That's only because I gave you a sedative," Heero spoke evenly; "You're bleeding internally. Moving about will only aggravate your injuries further."

"Better that than havin' ya fall asleep on the wheel 'n run us into some meteor or sumthin'," Duo muttered and stifled his own yawn. "When's the last time you slept?"

Heero gazed numbly at the controls; he did not reply and continued to adjust their heading. By the looks of his haggard, grime-streaked features it wasn't hard to see that the young pilot was utterly exhausted.

Duo sighed dramatically. "We're outta danger, alright? There's no need for you to act all _superhuman_ anymore. Shit man, I didn't even see ya have a drink of water. You walked out of a damn _fire._ At least have a few sips!"

Heero still wouldn't offer any response as he worked the controls silently. Annoyed with him, Duo pushed himself out of the seat and hovered down back. He returned with a silver sports bottle Heero had given him earlier. He threw it at Heero and the young pilot caught it in a swift motion. He didn't say a word and opened the cap to draw a few sips of water from the straw; his other hand was tending the controls the whole while.

"Jesus, I swear you turn me into a damn _worrywart!_" Duo grumbled with a stuffy voice that only highlighted his usually faint Southern accent. He reached a hand up to rub his broken nose and tested it carefully, applying light pressure to see how much it would hurt. His damaged nose was very tender and he let go of it, sighing dejectedly.

"I am not the one who was in need of rescuing," Heero reminded him flatly.

"See, that why we make such a great team!" Duo grinned jestingly; "I make sure you don't forget to do all those little things that keep us _humans_ alive, and you make sure I don't get ma ass whooped by them Ozzies!"

"Hn," Heero let out an unintelligible acknowledgement of Duo's joke. He resumed drinking the water quietly.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing out at the stars out the windshield. Duo wondered why people still bothered calling the front window of a shuttle _'windshield'_ if there was no wind in space.

Heero suddenly moved to leave his chair. Duo looked up to see him use the chair as leverage to lift himself up in the air. He turned to follow him with his gaze.

"So where are we headed anyway?"

"A hospital on L-One," Heero replied quietly as he drifted slowly to the back of the shuttle. "Doctor J instructed me to go there if I'm ever in dire need for medical assistance during the operation."

"Hey man, I wouldn't call this _dire_," Duo protested in defense of his ego, gesturing down at his battered body.

"Regardless," Heero argued as he approached the row of seats opposite to the ones Duo had lain on; "you can recuperate there."

"Sure man, whatever. As long as I dun haffta meet that freaky doc of yours. The last thing I need is to end up as _brainwashed_ as you, _soldier-boy_."

Heero ignored his light insult, as he always did. He settled on a chair at the far end of the row. Duo watched silently as the boy took off his filthy light-blue turtleneck shirt. The fabric had been scorched by the fire; it was streaked with blood and soot and it reeked of sweat and smoke. Duo's shabby black clothes weren't any less for wear; his clothes were soaked with blood, though the bloodstains were hardly detectable on the black material.

Shirtless, Heero balled his dirty blue shirt into an improvised pillow to cushion his head as he lay down on his back and closed his eyes tiredly. Duo remained in the co-pilot chair, observing Heero's naked torso silently. The young teenager's body was covered with hideous scars, fresh traces of severe burns and deep slashes which had been inflicted on his flesh not too long ago. There was a large healing scab on his upper left arm, a fading-red trace of a recent and nasty-looking injury.

"That from that sick stunt you pulled in Siberia?" Duo dared to ask. The last time he had seen Heero, two months ago, they were both about to be deployed to stop two enemy convoys in Siberia; each was sent to ambush a different group of enemy transports. Before dispatch, Duo had begged Heero not to do anything stupid. He knew that if he wasn't around to keep an eye on him, the heedless teen would turn to the extreme. And he had. When things got messy and OZ had gained the upper hand, Heero had chosen a foolish and unbelievably reckless last resort. He had initiated the self-destruct protocol, destroying his Gundam to avoid its capture. The problem was – that he had activated the self-detonation sequence while still aboard the damn thing.

"I knew you'd do something stupid," Duo grumbled. Now that they were out of danger, he could finally give Heero a piece of his mind. He had to get it into that thick head of his that life wasn't something one should throw away so easily. Life sucked, sure, but giving it up meant succumbing to the sadistic forces at work. Fighting for survival was like spitting in God's face, just in case he existed and therefore enjoyed torturing everybody. Appreciating the lives they've been given was the only resistance they could truly offer.

"Da fuck were you thinking anyway? That was suicide!"

Heero remained quiet and placed his uninjured right arm over his eyes, shielding them from the shuttle's bright white light. He ignored Duo.

"Dammit, Heero, I was worried sick, yanno? I was sure you were _dead._ I fucking _grieved_ for you!"

Heero took his arm off his face and fixed his blue eyes on Duo. His expression seemed somewhat perplexed by the other pilot's concern.

"I survived," he stated simply; somewhat ruefully, as though disappointed.

"Yeah, by pure dumb luck," Duo grunted petulantly. Heero simply didn't get it. He held so little regard for his life that he probably couldn't understand why anyone would mourn for him.

Duo sighed. "Where were you all this time anyway? In that hospital we're goin' to?"

"No," Heero exhaled jadedly. He covered his eyes with his arm again; obviously uninterested in further conversation.

"Then how come I haffta go there if you didn't, and you were a _goner_," Duo protested grumpily.

"Because it is the safest place for you to be right now," Heero muttered while keeping his eyes covered; "You can't stay with me, you're a liability."

"Gee, and here I thought I was your _friend_."

"You are," Heero confessed quietly; as straight forward as always. He put his arm down gently and shifted his glance to look up at Duo again. He didn't say anything more, but the suddenly soft, honest gleam in his usually harsh blue eyes told Duo all he that needed to know: while Heero didn't place much value on his own life, he did cherish his. Heero didn't want him to get hurt; he_ cared_ for him as a friend. Duo beamed, feeling proud for some reason.

"Thanks Heero, you're my best pal too," he responded in kind; "I'm sorry I wasn't there for ya in Siberia," he added with a humble smile as he decided to return the favor; he needed Heero to know that he also mattered, at least to him. "And I'm glad you made it out alive."

The young pilot looked away meekly. Without a word, he turned to lie on his side, facing the shuttle wall and away from Duo's penetrating gaze. He placed one arm under his improvised cushion and leaned on the other one, cradling his head in his arms in an attempt to get as comfortable as he possibly could on the hard row of chairs he was lying on.

Duo observed his fellow pilot as he fell into a deep, exhausted, slumber. Something told him that Heero would have never let his guard down like that if it weren't for him being near. He smiled gently and turned back to the controls. He skimmed over the display panels until he found the autopilot function. The computer would alert him if anything of interest happens. He turned it on and leaned back into the co-pilot seat. He crossed his hands over his chest, leaned his head back and closed his aching eyes. He fell asleep with a smile still tugging at his chapped lips.

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><p><strong>Please check out the teaser I made for this story (link available on my profile page).<strong>

**Elle**


	2. Chapter 00: Gate Out

**Chapter 00: Gate Out**

A buzzer screeched loudly and a heavy metal-bar door slid shut with a resonate 'thud!' A middle-aged prison-officer, a burly African man, gazed frowningly at the prisoner he was escorting. The convict stood casually in front of the closed door, wearing a cocky smile on his face. He was a tall and brawny individual, with a shoulder-length choppy-layered haircut and a gleam of bitter irony in his cobalt eyes. Long, chestnut-brown bangs framed his heart-shaped facial features. Dressed in a standard-issue bright-orange jumpsuit and heavy black boots, the only personal ornament he wore was a thick silver necklace around his neck, from which hung a large silver cross.

He stood proudly, looking quite smug, as he turned to the officer, chewing rudely on a piece of gum. He reached his two cuffed hands forward and winked at the jailer in a flirtatious manner, gesturing towards him with his hands.

The prison-guard exhaled a condemning sigh, shook his head and turned to unlock the handcuffs. "They oughtta shoot the motha-fucka who paroled you," he muttered with annoyance. "They shoulda let ya rot in here 'til ya drop."

"No one's asking you, Hakeem, so stuff it," the convict – soon to be an ex-convict – replied smoothly. His voice carried a heavy American accent with a faint Southern touch. "I'm sure gonna miss ya, though. We had some good times, didn't we?"

"Shut your piehole, _Princess_," the officer grunted and gave him a shove, urging him to move forward. "You're society's problem now. I don't haffta listen to your shit no more."

"You're supposed to say – don't forget to write, Sugar."

The officer snorted in disgust. "Get a move on, ya manic crackhead."

"Oh fuck Hakeem, I miss ya already!" the prisoner teased haughtily and charged at the man with an excessively tight hug.

"Get offa me, ya sick fuck!" the man growled and shoved the younger man away forcefully. He gave the prisoner a sharp jab in the ribs. "Get your skinny little ass moving, Princess. The sooner you're outta here – the better!"

They arrived at a counter at the end of the hall. An old Middle-Eastern man in uniform stood behind it, looking at the prisoner from behind a pair of heavy black eyeglasses.

"Inmate 58158?" he asked sternly; his voice carried a heavy Arabic accent.

"Used to be, but I since I'm gating outta here, I'll go by Duo now," the prisoner replied with a cocky wink.

"Very funny, _Princess_," Hakeem muttered behind him and gave him another jab in the back. "You ain't out the gate yet, so show Abu Fas'l some respect or it's back in the slammer for you."

"Ah, you wish," Duo muttered and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the old man behind the counter. "Prisoner 58158 – at your service!" He grinned madly.

"Right," the old man grunted. He reached for a box behind the counter and slammed it down in front of Duo. He picked up a clipboard and a pen and reached into the box.

"One cigarette lighter," he said as he pulled a cheap green plastic lighter out of the box and placed it on the counter.

"Check," Duo cut-in with an arrogant grin, which earned him another jab in the ribs from Hakeem. The old geezer behind the counter raised his gaze from the box to scold at him with a silent glare. After a short pause, he looked down again reached for another item.

"One used pack of condoms," he droned on as he continued emptying the box. "One used pack of cigarettes, one pack of gum—"

"HEY!" Duo exclaimed as Officer Hakeem suddenly shoved his hand down his jumpsuit pocket. "Da fuck you feeling me up, man!" he whirled around and glowered at the prison officer.

Abu Fas'l looked up from his desk, clearly exasperated at being interrupted.

Hakeem snarled in satisfaction as he retrieved a small folded combat knife out of Duo's pocket. He threw it up in the air, caught it again and then waved it before the convict's face in triumph.

"You think I dunno you was carrying a piece on ya, ya sick piece of _shit_?" he grunted; "I ain't havin' ya step outta ma prison with a weapon, ya_ nut_."

It was Duo's turn to snarl insolently. "Shit Hakeem, and here I was hoping we were finally gettin' a little friendly. This knife has sentimental value, yanno," he informed him haughtily; "You can't just take it like it was nuthin'."

"The knife_ stays_ with me," the officer replied and coldly, glaring at Duo down fiercely. "I don't care how many packs o' _crackers__**[i]**_ you used ta open with it back in the day," he muttered and shoved the switchblade into his uniform's pocket.

"Fine then," Duo grumbled; "keep it. Consider it a farewell present. Keep the gum too. I hope you'll _choke_ on it." He snatched the gum off the counter and threw it at the officer. Distracted by the falling pack of chewing gum, Hakeem didn't even notice when Duo slipped the folded combat knife back out of his pocket with the artful hands of a skilled pocket-picker. Smirking, Duo tucked the jackknife securely into his orange jumpsuit's pocket. Whistling innocently, he rose up and down by lifting his heels off the ground repeatedly, as happy as a clam.

"If you two _ladies _don't mind," Abu Fas'l sneered and slammed another item down on the counter. The two turned to him and the old man continued emptying the box:

"One T-shirt, one pair of jeans, one pair of sunglasses, one tank top, one short, one gym bag— and one passport," he looked up at Duo sternly and emphasized the following: "_Expired_ back in AC 204."

"No shit," Duo muttered and rolled his eyes. "Can I go now?"

"Prisoner 58158, Duo Maxwell, released with the aforementioned possessions on August 20th AC 207," Abu Fas'l muttered as he jotted the date down and thumped a hand-stamper onto the form in his clipboard. "The dressing room is through that door," he said, gesturing with his head as he signed the form and ripped it off the pad. He handed it to Duo, keeping the copy to himself. "Yallah," he grunted, glaring at the young man. "Ma'a salama, ya majnon!"[ii]

* * *

><p>It was about two hundred and seven years ago that the Anno Domini calendar was replaced with the After Colony calendar era. Human beings ventured into space with an aspiring endeavor to colonize the black vacuum and thus solve the growing problems in an over-populated Earth. At first, several nations established permanent space stations in geosynchronous Earth orbit. Those stations were the starting point of a much more ambitious project: the construction of the first city-size habitat in space. It had taken twenty years, but at long last the first space colony was completed at Lagrange Point 5.<p>

L5-A02026 was constructed by the Chinese, for the Chinese, since the great People's Republic of China could no longer support its ever-growing population. Only the Chinese could take on such an enormously complex task and complete it in less than twenty years. Their success encouraged other nations to join the Lagrange Colonizing Project. The United States of America, always competing with the growing success of China, soon sent people into orbit and in AC 022 they began building a colony at Lagrange Point 1. They joined hands with the Japanese for financial and technical support. The project didn't go as smoothly as the L5 construction. The engineering crews ran into severe conditions and construction was delayed. By AC 050, thirty years into the project, the US decided to withdraw and terminate its space program.

However, life on the over-populated planet was becoming unbearable and some nations persisted with the project. Due to limited resources, disputes broke out between Earth nations; the program was depleting their already scarce means. The European nations began withdrawing from space before they'll collapse under the burden.

Salvation for the space program came from no other than the Middle Eastern countries. Wealthy nations such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Kuwait searched for a new enterprise to invest in and joined the space colony project. With profuse amounts of money and energy resources to support them, the Middle Eastern nations began construction in space. They joined with the French to build the L3 colony. Soon the Americans resumed construction of L1. By AC 102, its construction was completed and the US moved on to build another colony at Lagrange Point 2. However, the construction was done rather poorly, due to their haste and depleted resources. Although functional, the L2 colony soon became known as "The Slums of Space."

The growing success of the program encouraged more nations to join and the colonization project flourished. Large population centers composed of multiple colonies, popularly known as "Colony Clusters", were constructed. The L4 colony cluster, constructed by the wealthy Middle Eastern countries, was the first to be completed. By AC 120, it became an extension of the Middle East in space. In a surprising turn of events, having recognized the need for a skilled population, the Arab nations signed peace treaties with the Jewish State of Israel, which was known to be a successful "Start-Up Nation". An Israeli colony was also constructed in the Middle Eastern Cluster, completing a perfect copy of the nations below.

By then, great conflicts had developed on Earth. Fleeing the various wars around the globe, civilians immigrated to space. By AC 130, 15% of the human population was living in space. Those who aspired for the good life, moved to the wealthy and advanced L4 colonies. Those unwilling to live under an Islamic or Jewish rule, compromised on a more difficult lifestyle at the rest of the Lagrange Point clusters.

It so happened that the prison Duo had just been released from was located on the L4 cluster. It was a separate section of one of the L4 colonies; a space station which served as a penal colony. It was connected to the colony by a large tunnel-bridge. In times of uproar, the prison could be disconnected from the rest of the colony and sustain itself as an independent space station.

Less than an hour after signing Abu Fas'l's paperwork, the recently paroled ex-con stepped out of the confines of the penal space station and into the long bridge that connected it to the colony. He was now dressed in casual clothing: plain dark jeans and a red T-shirt with an imprint of a green, crazy-looking cartoon dog, his blood spewing everywhere as he was being slaughtered by a large army knife. He was carrying a battered old gym-bag; a 'Don't fear the Reaper' slogan was written on it in a gothic font. He stood and took a moment to observe his surrounding, taking it all in from behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

He made his way down the narrow road stretching across the space-bridge, leading towards the outskirts of the L4 space-colony. Not a car was in sight, nor was there any public transport. Duo walked along the road leisurely, tossing the folded combat knife up and down with the palm of his hand and whistling a catchy tune. After a while, he grew tired of playing with the small jackknife and shoved it into his jeans' pocket. He took out a cigarette and a lighter instead, and indulged in a smoke as he continued making his way towards the more populated area of the colony.

At twenty-seven years of age, Duo Maxwell bore little resemblance to the lanky teenage terrorist he once was. His clothes, which he had long outgrown, clung tightly to his tall and muscular frame. An abstract gothic tattoo adorned the entire length of his left arm. Aside from growing taller and becoming much more masculine over the years, Duo had also cut his hair shorter. The chestnut cascade was no longer gathered into a lengthy braid but rather it was cut to mid-length; reaching almost to his shoulders, and layered so it was shorter at the front and longer at the back. Long bangs fell over his dark sunglasses, obscuring his vision some. Around his neck was a silver men's necklace with a thick cross pendant.

It felt good to be out of his prison uniforms. He had worn them for the past seven years and that was more than enough.

"Seven years," he muttered to himself as he took another drag on his smoke. "Fuck."

The gravel at the sides of the road crunched under his feet as he walked. He listened to his own footsteps absentmindedly, lost in thought. A new sound entered his daydreaming; a vehicle was slowing down by his side. Frowning, he stopped and turned towards a large black limousine, now parked in front of him. The window at the driver's side rolled down to reveal a dark skinned man wearing a white turban.

"Mister Maxwell?" he asked with a heavy Hindu accent.

"Who's asking?" Duo muttered rudely.

The man nodded once, as if to approve of something, and at the push of a button, the door at the back slid open. "Please," he invited courteously, "get in."

Duo glared at him warily.

"Courtesy of Mister Winner," the Muslim driver explained.

Duo's expression turned even sterner. "I see," he said slowly as he leaned down to peek into the limo, examining its interior cautiously. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, sir."

"No shit," Duo rolled his eyes and threw his gym bag in. Securing his burning cigarette between his lips, he jumped into the back seat, making himself comfortable. The door slid shut with a quiet electric hiss. Frowning at the whole situation, Duo turned to the driver, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The man sent him a short stern glance before turning to watch the road as he drove forward.

"So where are we headed?" Duo asked as he reached for the burning butt, took a long relaxing drag and released smoke into the air.

"To the spaceport, sir," the man replied reluctantly; "Mister Winner has arranged for a private flight."

"A flight? A flight where?"

"Anywhere you wish to go to, sir."

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"Mister Winner wants you off this colony – for good."

"_Now_ this shit makes sense," Duo sighed and leaned back into the leather seat, frowning as he smoked.

"If you say so, sir," the Muslim man muttered and pressed a button to close the partition between the passenger and the driver's cabin. Duo was left staring at his own sullen image reflecting off the smooth black-glass surface of the sliding-screen.

Sighing, he held his cigarette securely between his pressed lips and reached a hand into his pocket to pull out a crumpled old note. He unfolded it carefully; as if afraid it would tear, and then took the burning butt away from his lips, releasing smoke into the air. The writing on the note had nearly faded completely for it had been held and read so many times. In spite of the countless times he had stared at that note, Duo read it once again, memorizing what he already knew:

_52 Edwards St._

_Philadelphia, PA_

_The United States of America_

_Earth Sphere Unified Nation_

He smiled weakly. "You just wait for me, man," he whispered; "I'm finally on my way."

* * *

><p>[i] Crackers: slang for crack cocaine<p>

[ii] C'mon, get going, you nut!


	3. Chapter 01: Arrival

**Chapter 01: Arrival**

Some damn dog was barking out a window; its loud howls echoed throughout an urban Philadelphia city street. The desperate barking came from a low-rise residential building located in a crowded urban neighborhood, where white and red bricked buildings were crammed against each other in lengthy rows. A narrow one-way road divided the rows of buildings; many cars parked along the sidewalk. It was a quiet side-street, leading up to a main road that was buzzing with traffic.

A bus pulled over up on the main road and allowed a passenger to exit. Duo stepped off the bus and hoisted his gym bag over his shoulder. The bus drove off, displaying a colorful side-advertisement of a tanned model in a bikini telling people to _'Get out, go party! Philadelphia Hot Summer Fest AC 207!'_

Watching the bus drive off, the young man used a free hand to nudge a pair of sunglasses off the top of his head and down over his eyes. It was high-noon and the blazing August sun flooded the streets of Philadelphia with an intense and unforgiving sunlight. It beat down on Duo's light chestnut-colored hair. With his eyes shielded from the glaring sun, he turned to scan his surrounding, searching for street signs to tell him where he stood.

Once he got his bearings straight, he headed into the narrow side-street from which a distant sound of a barking dog could be heard. The tall buildings blocked the hot sunlight, shadowing the narrow side-street. Duo reached for his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes and green lighter. His gym bag bounced against his back as he walked and smoked nervously.

The damn dog was still barking loudly. Its barks emitted from an apartment building in the middle of the narrow street. Duo stopped in front of the building and, gazing up at the third floor, he squinted against the bright blue skies until he spotted the head of a large golden dog peeking out a window, howling. He then turned to look at the number of the building and smirked, pleased. It was as if the damn howling beast had beckoned him somehow. He had found the address he'd been searching for.

After taking one last drag on his smoke, Duo threw it to the ground and crushed it with his foot, which was clad in a heavy black boot. "Here goes nothing," he muttered grimly, secured his gym bag over his shoulder and headed into the building.

The air in the lobby was a bit cooler compared to the outside; cool, but still very humid. Duo was thankful for the relative coolness, for even the short walk from the bus stop had produced a sticky layer of perspiration all over his body. Philadelphian summer was hot and muggy. His colony-born body was unaccustomed to Earth's weather conditions. His red T-shirt clung to his stained armpits and chest, and his dark jeans were riding up his sweaty ass, giving him a nasty wedgie. Pulling at the garment on his backside, he then wiped off the sweat above his upper lip, sniffling loudly – feeling like a damned junkie.

_An ex-junkie,_ he reminded himself mentally and his face twisted with a sarcastic snarl._ I should get useta adding an 'ex' next to every damn title I give myself: an ex-Gundam pilot... an ex-junkie... an ex-con... and an EX-tremely fucked-up individual. Heh, god for me._

Snickering, Duo reached to push his sunglasses up over his head again. Then he turned to face the rows of mailboxes situated on the wall to his right. He scanned the various names of the apartment owners until he found the name he was seeking. A sly smile curled his lips upwards as he gazed at the name printed neatly on the mailbox: _'Hiro Nakasone, 6C'_.

"Gotcha," Duo whispered in triumph. He summoned the elevator and tapped his foot impatiently on the floor while waiting for it to arrive. Once inside, he continued to tap nervously on the elevator's floor as it made its way up.

To those who knew Duo – and very few did – it wouldn't have been hard to guess who he was coming to see so out of the blue. There were merely a handful of people who would be quick to put one and one together and conclude that _'Hiro Nakasone'_ was no other than Duo's old-time friend: Heero Yuy. His previous name was both legendary and notorious in the pages of the After Colony Era history, but Duo cared very little for that. To him, the name Heero Yuy represented a kindred spirit, a comrade and a long lost friend. A comrade, because they had fought through the last war Earth and Space had known; long lost, because it has been over a decade since he had last seen the man; and a friend... well, that still remained to be seen.

Recent history told of great battles, heroism and despair which had taken place over a decade ago. Ever since the completion of the five Lagrange Point Clusters and the mass immigration of Earth citizens to Space, an inevitable conflict had developed between the Earth nations and their colonial counterparts. Eventually, the Colonies demanded autonomy and in a bold move, despite their dependency on Earth resources, separated from their mother planet. The Colonies turned to space and technology for resources. Great mining projects were initiated on numerous asteroids and on the moon. Large space stations were constructed in orbit of the Lagrange Point Clusters and served as Resource Satellites, supplying the Colonies with vital minerals, metals and energy.

While the Colonies prospered, Earth nations were still scavenging the planet and fighting over what little resources they could find. In an arrogant political move, the Colonies offered their assistance to the deprived Earth nations below. The proud Earth nations refused and in an effort to preserve life on Earth, they united into one nation: the United Earth Sphere Alliance. Countries that were once at war began cooperating and search for ways to better life for all Earth citizens. Once the Alliance became stable, it wasn't long before a military solution was reached. The Earth Sphere Alliance soon endeavored to bring the Colonies back under its rule, claiming that full cooperation would be the only way for humanity to survive, both on Earth and in space.

Earth oppressed the Colonies with brutal military force, forcing space dwelling citizens to abide by the Alliance's rules. The Alliance strove to yield space-resources for Earth's use and the population in space became practically enslaved by the powerful Earth Nation. The Colonies united in an effort to fight the oppression, but they could not compete with Earth's superior military force. With no other choice, the five Lagrange Clusters turned to guerrilla warfare. In an attempt to undermine the Earth Alliance with precise and crippling terrorist attacks, five superior fighting machines – popularly known as Gundams – were developed, and five young pilots were then sent to Earth to rain havoc.

But by AC 207, the last great battles between Earth and Space, more commonly known as The Battles of Christmas Eve, were just a distant memory; another footnote in someone's memoir, another chapter in a high-school textbook. Still, there were those who remembered it far more vividly than mere written words. There were those who still lived in its shadows and Duo was one of those people. Being one of the five Gundam pilots, he was one of very few who had experienced the battles like no other.

Heero was the same. Once, they had been comrades and there was even a time when Duo had dared to call them friends. However, after the "Eve Wars" ended, the pilots drifted apart, moving on with their lives. While he had a basic idea where the other pilots – Wufei, Trowa and Quatre – had settled down, until recently he had no clue as to what became of Heero after the war.

He had spent the past year searching for the lost ex-Wing ZERO pilot. With only scarce resources available for his use at the prison library, Duo used every connection he had in the underworld to find Heero. However, even a thorough search had failed to come up with any records of a 'Heero Yuy' living anywhere on either Earth or the Colonies. Thus Duo concluded that Heero has assumed a new identity.

He could easily understand why Heero wished to disappear and change his name. Hardly anyone knew the other pilots by their names. Heero had solely carried the burden of recognition; his was the only name people associated with the Gundams. It was no wonder he wanted to change it and start anew. The name 'Heero Yuy' bore too many connotations to the war, since it was also the name of a martyr of the colonies, a famous politician assassinated for his ideals of peace. If Heero would have kept that name, the war would have followed him wherever he went.

Since Duo couldn't even begin to guess what kind of new identity Heero assumed, picking up his trail seemed nearly impossible. However, luck was by his side and provided him with a recent breakthrough. When the war ended, the world became gracious enough to recognize the need to keep the peace and also acknowledge the people responsible for realizing it. Subsequently, at the end of the war the newly formed Earth Sphere Unified Nation government decided to reward the people who fought for peace with a handsome sum of money to be paid annually for a period of ten years. It wasn't long after the Mariemaia Uprising back in Christmas AC 196, that Duo had been contacted by government officials with the offer to give him the annual grant in gratitude for his efforts in the Eve Battles and his contribution to the containment of the Mariemaia Incident. It was hardly enough to make up for all he had been through, but it was a good start. It felt nice to finally be appreciated by the people he had fought to protect.

For the past decade, Duo relied on the annual grant for a living. It was a sum that usually went to cover various debts to numerous disreputable individuals. After receiving the final annuity payment a few months back, Duo had been struck with a brilliant idea: If he could get his hands on some records regarding the bank accounts the grant was being transferred to, he could probably find out where each pilot was and more importantly – what was Heero's new identity.

Getting his hands on that information required some questionable moves; Duo had put into use some illegitimate resources and semi-criminal methods in order to find his long lost friend; the only friend he had left in the world (or so he kept telling himself). After many frustrating months of searching, one of his contacts finally came through and provided a name: Hiro Nakasone.

To make sure that the name matched the person he was searching for, Duo asked a few old acquaintances of his, people who still owed him a favor, to track down _Mr. Nakasone_ and send him photos of the man so that he could identify him as Heero. He had more than enough connections with the right (or rather, _wrong_) people. They reported back to him with photos. Duo gaped at the surveillance pictures in disbelief. There were images of an older Heero Yuy: tall, slender and still striking in appearance, going about mundane life. After years of searching, he had finally found Heero. The ex-pilot was alive and well, living in Philadelphia.

Thus Duo now found himself in The City of Brotherly Love, hoping to find such kindness there once he would meet Heero. He was counting on the fact that Heero had severed his ties with the rest of the ex-pilots soon after the war ended. Since he hadn't been a part of their little group for over a decade, Duo assumed the Heero must be clueless about what had transpired. There hadn't been any news coverage about the incident that sent him to prison for the last seven years, so if he was lucky, Heero never heard about any of it.

The elevator chimed as it arrived to the third floor. Duo's restless foot ceased tapping. Once the elevator doors opened, he hesitated to exit. He remained standing inside, looking out at the corridor.

The barking was even louder now, since he was standing on the same floor as the howling dog. The sound was a bit muffled, coming from behind one of the doors. Duo listened to relentless barking, unable to take a step forward. Fear of rejection stirred wildly inside of him, rooting him to his spot. It took a few deep breaths and a short mental pep-talk to move forward again. Taking a deep breath, Duo clutched his bag's strap, ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and then finally stepped out of the elevator. Slowly, he walked down the hall, scanning the numbers on the doors.

There were two apartments on the third floor. Apartment 6C was the one to the left, which meant that it was the apartment from which he saw a dog barking. It was Heero's dog. Duo was a bit surprised at the revelation; he had never imagined Heero as a pet owner. Then again, a person could change drastically over a decade. Hell, for all he knew, Heero could be completely domesticated: living with a wife, two brats, a mortgage and a fluffy dog named _'Smoochy'_. The surveillance photos he had received hadn't provided enough information to know for sure.

_The last thing he probably needs is __**me**__ popping outta fucking nowhere, dumping all ma shit down on him,_ Duo thought bitterly. He hesitated for a moment longer before finally working up the nerve to reach a hand up and knock on Heero's door. He knocked once, hesitant, and then added a few more knocks for good measure.

In a flash, the barking became louder and more desperate. Something large and heavy made its way towards the door, as an apparently _huge_ animal charged at it with a vengeance. It began scraping desperately against the wooden surface, clawing at the door and barking crazily.

If the knocking hadn't done the job, the dog's racket was probably more than enough to attract the occupant's attention. Duo waited nervously for Heero to answer the door, but other than the damn dog, no one else came. After a minute or so, Duo knocked again, but all he got in response was more barking and more scraping.

_Not home on a Sunday?_ He realized sadly, disappointed._ Or maybe he knows it's me somehow? No, that can't be... can it? I just got out today... What if Quatre told him? Fuck, if Heero knows then I'm really screwed. Where else could I go? Fuck, Heero, answer the damn door!_

He knocked again, almost franticly. The thought of Heero rejecting him was more than he could bear; it was frightening. Since the day he'd been told that his sentence was being reduced to seven instead of ten years' time, Duo began planning his and Heero's reunion. During those months of planning, he had convinced himself that as long as he could see Heero, he would be able to get his life back on the right track. He kept telling himself that the ex-pilot would never fail him; he had never done so in the past.

_Shit, God I swear – if he opens the door and lets me in, I'm gonna put all that shit behind me. I swear._

During his seven years' time in prison Duo had gotten close to God, searching for salvation in Christian faith instead of finding it in chemical substances. Even as a child, when he had been living in the Maxwell Church on L2, he had refused to acknowledge his Maker. He had learned at a very young age that there was no God to help him or the ones he loved. They all wound up dead and God didn't give a shit about that. So Duo turned against everything he had been taught while being raised at the church. It didn't matter anyway, because the church, the Sisters and Father Maxwell were dead and gone. What little faith they had managed to bestow upon Duo, died with them.

At ten-years-old, mere months after the Maxwell Church Massacre, of which he was the sole survivor, Duo had already been using. Living on his own on the harsh streets of colony L2-V08744, drugs had given him a kind of sanctuary religious faith failed to provide. He would have most likely perished from an overdose in some filthy alleyway if not for running into Professor G back in AC 192. The old scientist took him in, forced him to kick the habit and once he was clean, trained him into a Gundam pilot. He had no time to rebound back to his addiction during training and while fighting. The war helped him to keep clean. It also reinforced his atheism, proving to him time and time again that there was no God to turn to and that faith in some alleged _Almighty_ was for the weak and the deluded. The only delusions he was willing to live with, were the ones provided by narcotics. That was why he quickly got back in the habit when the war ended.

However, seven years in prison changed that. Mortified and crippled by his addiction – a shameful dependency which led him to commit his crime – Duo fought to get clean once and for all. He had been brave and foolish enough to try to independently rehabilitate himself from drugs. Lying on the cot in his cell, he had gone through the roughest of the withdrawal symptoms all on his own, clutching the pillow, screaming, when he felt as though the torment would kill him.

It nearly had. His daredevil attempt to go cold turkey on his own took a bad turn and he was hospitalized at the prison clinic. He was then encouraged by _The System_ to keep clean. They even sent the prison Priest to his cell to consult him. The damn preacher came to him when he was most vulnerable. In his despair, Duo drank the man's words hungrily, replacing the deluding comfort of narcotics with the misleading promises of religious faith. Eventually, he replaced one dependency with another: he had turned away drugs and turned to God instead.

Without drugs Duo felt so utterly miserable, empty and alone, that he had no one else to turn to but the God he had forsaken long ago. He used to think that God was the one who had forsaken him, but somehow the Priest made him see otherwise. It all became so clear: God turned his back on his suffering because he kept stubbornly rejecting his Maker. His God was a petty God, and it made perfect sense to Duo that such an all-mighty entity would be so arrogant and vain. God created Man in his image, and Mankind wasn't anything if not vain.

Through the Priest's preaching, Duo learned that he must suck-up to God in order to deserve his blessing. That was how things worked. So he hung a Jesus on a Cross in his cell, got the largest cross pendant he could get his hands on – pure silver no less – and wore it day and night around his neck as a clear statement of his newly regained faith. He kept the Holy Bible in his cell and even attended Sunday Service regularly. God became a new addiction; a blinding and fanatic faith that fueled his anger and hate, his resent for life.

Duo wasn't looking for divine absolution. Repentance was none of his concern. He could not bring himself to feel contrition for past wrongs he had done; he was too angry to regret any of it. He was furious with his Lord and the feeling of betrayal was his source of strength. His faith was not about penance; his prayers weren't for salvation. He believed because he finally had someone to blame for the pain he had been subjected to. He believed because it helped him stay angry and anger kept him going, helped him avoid despair. At times when he was forced to be completely honest with himself, Duo acknowledged that he had turned into one of the _"bitter ones"_.

His faith was of the egotistic kind; a devotion for bitterness and shame. In his despair, Duo often cursed and condemned his Lord with blasphemous words, blaming him for every wrong ever done to him. His faith was a love-hate relationship with his Marker; gratification achieved through self-flagellation. His faith was almost masochistic in nature, which suited Duo just fine. Pain always made him feel alive; without it, he was completely numb inside.

If nothing else, at least his faith eventually guided him back to the right track. With the aid of the prison Priest, Duo finally got his act straight and finally changed his attitude towards life. After he had ridden himself of his drug addiction, Duo also quit the illegal peddling operation he had been running in prison and finally managed to stay clean and out of trouble. He signed up to work at the Prison Industries and after a year of PI work, he even managed to get his sentence cut short for good behavior. His improvement and his newly found Christian faith impressed the parole board. They decided to cut his sentence short by three years, reducing it from ten to seven years' time. Finally, he was being rewarded for his belief!

The prospect of being released early had given him great joy at first, but soon the feeling of elevation was replaced by anxiety and fear. He realized that very soon he would have to handle himself outside the prison, back in the real world where trouble and temptation awaited him, ready to pull him under and make him sink again. Nothing waited for him on the outside; no one would be waiting for him once he's out of the slammer. There was nowhere for him to go and no one for him to turn to. He would slip back to his old self the minute he'll step back into the streets where he used to belong.

Duo realized that if he truly wanted to keep together, he had to find someone other than God to rely on; he needed someone tangible and reliable to turn to after his parole. That someone has always been Heero. Regardless of the man's blunt exit from his life after the war ended, Duo knew that he had no other choice but to look him up. He would have to work out whatever led their friendship astray; otherwise, he was doomed to repeat the same cycle he was so desperate to break.

Anxious to finally consummate his long awaited reunion with Heero, Duo gave up on knocking on the door and tried the doorbell instead.

"Hello?" he called after it buzzed loudly, but again his only reply was frantic barking. The damn dog even began slamming itself against the door.

"Shit," Duo cussed and took a step back, startled by a particularly loud thud. _What does Heero keep in there – a fucking dinosaur?! Freaking beast... it's gonna tear the fucking door down! Shit, man, why aren't you home?!_

On instinct, he quickly reached for the back of his head, reflexively searching for the lock-picker he had always carried tucked securely in the thickest part of his braid. A quick break-in would be harmless; he'd be in and out of there before anyone could even notice. But as quickly as the criminal thought came to his mind, it soon vanished. Feeling foolish, Duo let his hand drop down, regretfully recalling that he no longer had a braid. He had chopped it off the day he was sent to prison, knowing full well that if he kept his precious plait, other cons would mistake him for a damn _sissy boy_. His young age, slim body and good looks were more than enough to give the dirty perverts the wrong idea. During his time in prison, Duo had exercised hard in order to achieve a burlier figure. He had no choice but to become a ruthless and deadly individual so that even the burliest bully knew that he was a force to be reckoned with; and indeed he was.

He considered using his switchblade to pick the lock, but then decided against it. Those days were behind him now. Breaking an entry was by no means an option. If he ever wanted to stand a chance in appealing to Heero, he had to get things started on the right foot. Heero was a harsh and intolerant individual, which was exactly what he needed in order to keep out of trouble.

Sighing tiredly, Duo let his gym bag drop down to the floor and settled down on it. He took the sunglasses off the top of his head and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. Sweat had accumulated on his scalp and he wiped it away. It was too damn hot in Philadelphia. Fatigued, Duo leaned his head back against the wall, toying with the sunglasses in his hands as he stared numbly at the ceiling and waited for Heero to show up.

* * *

><p>An hour later Duo was still sitting on his gym bag by Heero's apartment door. He was dying for a cigarette, but he didn't feel like going back out to the blazing sun; a smoke wasn't worth the trouble. He would have smoked inside, but he had spotted a few smoke detectors throughout the hallway. He didn't want to get into any trouble (Heero would have his head for it), so he waited, staring at the ceiling, daydreaming to pass the time.<p>

The damn dog was still barking, but Duo blocked out the sound so it was no longer a bother. Seven years in prison had taught him how to tune out many things. He had witnessed many horrors during his time in the joint, he had even taken part in some of them, but that life was behind him now. He was looking forward to making a clean start; a life away from all of the scum-of-society he had dealt with in the slammer.

Suddenly, the dog fell silent. With a short high-pitched wail, it ceased scraping against the door and finally settled down. The abrupt silence pulled Duo out of his dark musings. Still seated on the floor, he turned around so he could look at the door. The silence sounded so strange... unfamiliar. He waited for something to happen. Turning to look in the elevator's direction, he expected to see a new arrival, but none came; the hallway remained silent and empty.

Then he heard a metallic jingle behind the door: keys. The lock was being turned. Frowning, Duo quickly jumped up to his feet and turned towards the door. He wondered if someone has been there the whole time. The damn dog must have been barking for well over half an hour – why hadn't the occupant silenced it?

The front door to apartment 6C opened slowly. Suddenly anxious, Duo quickly ran a hand through his messy and sweaty hair, trying to look decent for a guy who was just released from prison and flew 150 thousand miles just to be standing in front of that door.

The door was opened fully to reveal a young man holding a large Golden Retriever by a leash. He was just about to step out the door, but when he noticed Duo he froze, halting abruptly. For fleeting second, his eyes conveyed his surprise before his gaze hardened into a stony glare that was all too familiar to Duo. He couldn't help but grin excitedly; he was actually standing in front of ex-Gundam pilot Heero Yuy!

Heero was dressed simply, wearing a pair of gray slacks and a white/blue polo T-shirt. A familiar mop of scruffy chocolate-brown hair framed his harsh facial features. Duo had always assumed that Heero was of a mixed Asian/Caucasian decent, a quality which made him exceptionally appealing and adorned him with a pair of remarkably blue eyes. Those piercing Prussian blue eyes now gazed firmly at Duo from behind a pair of thinly framed black eyeglasses.

Much like him, Heero had grown taller, however, unlike Duo who had filled out into a muscular frame Heero's figure was still very lean. His arms weren't as well-built as Duo remembered; his white/blue polo T-shirt hung sloppily from his shoulders, falling loosely around his slim frame. Heero's face has matured over the years, losing its once cheeky and boyish appearance. His high cheekbones were much more prominent now; his features were sharper and longer, still striking in their intensity and still extraordinarily handsome.

However, standing so close to Heero, Duo noted that the man's skin-tone was very pale; unlike the rich bronze tan he could recall stretching over taut muscles. A few days' worth of stubble covered his haggard face and dark circles were noticeable under his eyes, accented by his black eyeglasses. Overall, Heero's gaunt features, combined with the clothes that hung baggily over his lean body, gave him a rather decrepit appearance. The longer he stared, the more Duo realized that the person standing before him wasn't the fierce teenage boy he so fondly remembered, but rather there was a twenty-seven-year-old man who had obviously grown and changed into a full-fledged adult torn and tattered by the ordeals of his youth.

Heero's subtle frailty was alarming. As Duo recalled him, Heero has always possessed a raw kind of majesty. Even as a teenage boy, still growing and awkwardly being shaped into a man, he had radiated a sort of crude brilliance, hidden under layers of aloofness and reserve. That exquisite magnetism of his had captivated people in ways they couldn't quite grasp. There was something about Heero that made people act; it made them better somehow, it made them worthy of being in the same room with him. His unrefined allure swayed the hearts of friends and foes alike; it allowed him to carry the hopes of many on his shoulders. That was why Duo returned after all those years. No one but Heero would be able to make him worthy of living again, yet it now dawned on Duo that the person he had known and relied on must have changed. His brilliance has diminished significantly; perhaps it was because that in an age of peace, there was no more need for such a heroic allure.

He didn't want to face a shadow, a stranger. He needed _Heero_; he needed _his_ Heero, the unstoppable man who could bend steel and walk through fire for the sake of his convictions. Only _that_ Heero would be able to save Duo from himself. The realization that he might be gone frightened Duo more than he cared to admit, even to himself, and he stood there in a stupor, gaping at the stranger in front of him.

Heero too stood unmoving, staring blankly at Duo as he held the large Golden Retriever by a leash. He studied Duo quietly, staring at him long and hard; his gaze was as cold and calculated as always. For a moment Duo thought that Heero didn't recognize him. After all, he too had changed and was now very different from the goofy braided teenager Heero could probably recall. Duo briefly wondered if his appearance gave him away as an ex-con, but quickly dismissed the absurd thought.

"Hey man," he struggled to speak over the nervous lump forming in his throat, "you were in there this whole time? I knocked like a billion times." Not the best opening line, considering it has been over ten years, but it would have to do.

Heero remained silent. His eyes narrowed with a frown, conveying his dismay. His Prussian blue eyes scrutinized Duo from behind a pair of black eyeglasses, taking everything in: from Duo's shorter hair, to the heavy silver cross dangling over his red T-shirt and the dirty black boots on his feet. His glance paused to observe Duo's tight, obviously a size too small, T-shirt for a moment. He studied the image of an insane-looking cartoon dog being stabbed by a large army-knife as he laughed madly, his blood spattering all around. His eyes then shifted to look at the arm-length tattoo decorating Duo's left arm. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he turned to meet Duo's gaze; his eyes condemning.

"Uhm," Duo let out, feeling uncomfortable under the harsh glare, "You _do_ recognize me, right?" he asked just to make sure, for Heero still hadn't given him a response, other than a frown that is.

"Yes," Heero finally spoke; his tone steady and callous. "How did you find me?" he asked quietly, looking at Duo with a stony expression. His voice was still the calm near-whisper tone Duo remembered and admired. He felt relieved to hear it. In fact, for a short moment, all he could do was gawk at Heero dumbly. Hearing Heero for the first time in over a decade made their reunion far more tangible, because he still sounded the same. He was finally face-to-face with the man who was going to save his life, his eternal soul and what was left of his sanity.

"Seek and you shall find, right?" Duo replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

Heero merely scrutinized at him quietly. He appeared to be contemplating something difficult. Fearing that the man might ask him to leave, Duo hurried to explain:

"Listen, uh, Heero, I know this is kinda sudden, well, actually, it's like _totally_ out of the blue, but... I uh... see, I uh... I need your help, man," he let it all out in one breath, stumbling over his own words for he was suddenly very nervous. He usually wasn't; but Heero had that effect on him. He always felt as though he was being criticized for just about anything while in the presence of the infamous_ "Perfect Soldier"_. Duo found himself fidgeting under the man's severe and unforgiving gaze. It took every ounce of mental strength he had in him to face Heero's firm blue eyes; the black eyeglasses made him appear even sterner... older. Damn, he looked so different!

"It's been over ten years," Heero stated dryly; his tone conveyed his displeasure clearly. He pinned Duo with his harsh gaze. "Am I still the only one you rely on to keep your ass out of trouble?"

"It's just for a couple of days, I swear," Duo blurted out quickly, "I just got outta— I mean, see, I ain't got nuthin' else goin' on and... It's just for a while! I swear ta God, just for a while."

Heero's frown deepened, creating worry-lines on his forehead. Combined with his eyeglasses, his pale features and the stubble on his face, the wrinkles made him look... old. Once again Duo wondered if he was indeed standing before the same _'Heero Yuy'_ he had once known; _'Hiro Nakasone'_ seemed to be far removed from the young man Duo remembered and admired.

Sighing, Heero turned to go back inside. "I can't help you," he said as he began closing the door, obviously choosing not to take his dog for a walk at that time. The large Golden Retriever cocked its head aside, confused.

"Try asking the others for help." With that, he closed the door and locked it behind him. The damn dog started barking again and Duo continued to stand in front of the closed door, gaping at it with disbelief. It took him a moment to process what Heero had just said.

_'Ask the others?' Why da fuck would he say that unless... Holy SHIT! He really doesn't know!_

Encouraged by the realization, Duo pounded against the door. "Heero!" he called, "Open the door! Heero! Please, man! I just wanna talk! Really! Just hear me out! Please!"

He wasn't going to give up so early into the fight; he was far too obsessed to think of anyone else other than Heero. He_ had_ to convince the man to let him in! They _had_ to be friends again! Heero had to be the one who saves him – he had to!

"I swear ta God, Heero, just a talk. C'mon, man, we're buddies right?"

Despite his plea, Heero did not return to open the door. Desperate, Duo leaned his forehead against the door, banging his head on it lightly.

"Heero?" he called softly this time, "Please, man... I ain't got nowhere else ta go..."

The dog barked once before quieting down; Heero must have silenced it. Then, the door opened bit by bit, just a slight crack. A pair of doubtful blue eyes peeked outside, studying Duo quietly. Once again Heero scanned Duo up and down. He frowned and leveled his gaze with Duo's.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked with clear disapproval in his voice.

"No," Duo assured him, "actually, I'm trying to stay _da Hell _away from it for once."

Heero's frown deepened. Finally, heaving an almost dramatic sigh, he opened the door fully. Stepping aside to make room for Duo to enter, he mumbled a silent "Come in."

"Thanks man, much obliged." Duo hurried to pick up his bag and enter the apartment before Heero would change his mind.

Heero slammed the door shut after Duo. He almost seemed upset, but Duo knew better; Heero would never let such obvious emotion show on his face.

The large Golden Retriever came charging at Duo, sniffing his legs and running between them in circles; Duo almost tripped and fell over.

"Chowder, no," Heero commanded tiredly and grabbed the large dog by its collar to pull it away from Duo. The massive canine thrashed about playfully, pulling Heero with it instead of the other way around.

"He's unaccustomed to strangers," Heero explained as he struggled to keep the excited dog at bay.

"Yeah, the damn thing was barking since before I got here."

"He's hungry," Heero muttered quietly as he dragged the struggling dog towards the kitchen. Chowder was still trying to pounce at Duo, even while it was being held back by its owner.

"I know the feeling," Duo said as he felt his stomach rumble in agreement; he was famished too.

Heero dragged Chowder into the kitchen. He opened a door leading to a small laundry room and pushed the dog inside, hurrying to close the door before the animal escaped.

Duo used that time to give the apartment a swift scan. It was a small residence, with a living room and kitchen separated by a long kitchen bar, and in between the two spaces was a corridor which probably led to the bath and bed rooms. The apartment was simply and modestly decorated. The interior design was tasteful, which surprised Duo. He wondered if the apartment was a rental and if the décor was done by the landlord, because there was no way that Heero would take the time to match the TV cabinet to the kitchen cupboards and the large black leather sofa to the elegant hardwood floor.

Judging by the various appliances Duo spotted around the apartment, Heero most likely earned a handsome income. In the living room stood a large flat screen television and in the corner was a small home office with state-of-the-art office appliances. The ex-Wing ZERO pilot seemed to be living in style, at least by Duo's standards, which made Duo feel a bit jealous.

Heero returned from the kitchen. He turned to Duo, looking like he had something to say, but kept quiet. Duo realized that much like in the past it was up to him to break the ice; but first things first. He turned to Heero, smiling sheepishly.

"Say man, mind if I use the bathroom? I've been holding it since orbit."

Heero nodded and gestured with his head towards the corridor. "It's the first door to the left."

"Thanks buddy. Be back in a jiffy."

It was a joint toilet and bathroom – clean, spacious and tidy. Duo actually had to pause for a moment to take it all in. To him, even the modest bathroom seemed luxurious. It had been a long while since he had last used such a comfortable facility; prison never offered much privacy, nor did it keep strict rules regarding the inmates' hygiene.

Once he was done, Duo walked to the sink to wash his hands. There was a mirror hanging over the sink, which was also the door for a medicine cabinet. He gave himself a good onceover and decided that he looked like shit. He was so nervous that his face was sweaty, the red fabric under his armpits was stained with sweat, and his hair was a fucking mess, damp with humidity. There were dark circles under his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent fretting over what might be.

Duo washed his face and ran a wet hand through his long hair in an attempt to tidy it up. After all, he was trying to make a good impression (not that Heero cared... right?). He took a moment to adjust his red T-shirt and wrinkled his nose when he realized how stinky he was. On a whim, he reached to open the medicine cabinet, hoping to find a deodorant.

He was surprised to see that the cabinet was full of round orange pill containers, all labeled with prescriptions. His curiosity got the better of him and he reached for one of the orange cylinders. It was a bottle of painkillers, prescribed to _'Hiro Nakasone'_. There were other pill containers inside the cabinet; Duo recognized some of the medication as antidepressants, anti-psychotic agents and sleeping pills. Figures; PTSD was a bitch. He had a long list of his own prescriptions to take, which of course he didn't. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or not, he was done doing drugs, prescribed or otherwise.

Duo shoved the pills back into place and closed the bathroom cabinet. For now, he would pretend that he hadn't seen anything. He decided that if he wanted to get things started on the right foot, he shouldn't mention that he had snooped around Heero's medicine cabinet.

Walking out of the bathroom, he spotted Heero in the kitchen, taking something out of the pantry. There were three tall bar-chairs standing in front of the long kitchen bar which separated the kitchen from the living room; the chairs stood on the living room's side, facing the kitchen. Duo took a seat on one of them and leaned forward on the elegantly polished wooden bar surface. He watched Heero as he walked around the kitchen, preparing the ingredients for what would most likely be lunch.

The way Heero carried himself was something that Duo could never forget; his distinct posture and steadfast pace were deeply ingrained into his mind. Heero always moved in a steady and precise pace, as though each step was carefully calculated before a leg swung forward. His manner was almost valiant for it seemed so resolute; it was almost as if he was marching towards a crucial destination and not a cupboard or a pantry. But then Duo noticed that Heero's posture and tread were not exactly as he recalled; there was something a bit _'off'_ with his stride. It seemed as though he carried a limp, his body tilting slightly to the left as he walked.

Heero pulled a can of crushed tomatoes out of the pantry; he placed it on the elegant black kitchen worktop, where a wooden cutting board and a few onions already waited. There were also two large pots waiting on the gas stove-top.

"The dog's quiet," Duo mentioned, just to start a conversation.

"He's eating," Heero said as he turned to the kitchen worktop where he had placed the ingredients that would soon be lunch.

Duo realized that it was the first time he'll see Heero cook. Somehow, the image just didn't sit right with him; it wasn't something he had been accustomed to see during the war. Cooking hadn't been a part of their routine. In the scarce moments he _had_ seen Heero eat, it had usually been a meal at the dining room of one of the private boarding schools they had attended while posing as students, or a quick snack between battles. Never in his life had Duo entertained the thought of the _"Perfect Soldier"_ taking the time to cook a meal!

Duo had a certain image of Heero in his mind, an image that was very hard to shake. The domestic scene was never a part of that image. He usually associated Heero with the smell of gunpowder, sweat and soot, and _not_ home-cooking. Thoughts of Heero raised in Duo dim and distant sensations of mortal peril and pure adrenaline. It was a thrilling impression, an electrifying rush bursting through him, burning vigorously in his veins whenever he thought of the ex-Wing ZERO pilot. Thinking of Heero was like doing drugs; it was overwhelming enough to make his head spin.

In Duo's mind, the immediate connotation with the name 'Heero Yuy' was that of dark crimson blood, hot orange fire and fierce blue eyes. When thinking about his ex-comrade his mind would fill with snapshot images such as blood slowly oozing from a cut on Heero's forehead, while he paid it no heed; nasty blue and purple bruises staining his limbs as he tossed and turned uncomfortably at night; a pair of intense Prussian blue eyes gazing at him sharply from the doorstep of a dark OZ prison cell; strong muscular arms bending steel bars in an attempt to flee him to safety; a mere wince when he had set his own broken leg; a brooding look on his face while he was silently sipping a drink of water out of a straw. They were memories of a quiet, powerful and intense presence, of a fierce teenage warrior who had been willing to give his life for the cause without a blink.

Now, Duo felt odd looking at a twenty-seven year old man who bore little resemblance to the image he still had of him in his mind. The thought of losing the image of an idol saddened him, but Duo supposed that Heero couldn't have changed all that much. He still seemed quiet and brooding, remote as he had ever been. So what if he owned a dog, had a home office and cooked lunch; he was still Heero and that was all Duo needed to be sure that he hadn't lost his old time friend.

Opening a drawer, Heero pulled out a large knife before grabbing an onion and preparing to chop it. When Duo turned to watch, simply out of boredom, he noted that for some reason Heero hadn't noticed that he was trying to cut the onion with the wrong side of the blade. He was holding the knife pointing upwards, with the blunt end of the blade unsuccessfully cutting the onion. Duo was about to say something about it, but then Heero realized his mistake and turned the knife back in the right direction. He released a quiet sigh and began chopping the onion; his movements were slow and careful, deeply concentrated on every move he made. Duo frowned at the odd occurrence. Something like that would have _never_ happened to the _Perfect Soldier_.

Heero suddenly hissed in pain and Duo looked up, concerned. He noted that the young man had cut himself while chopping the onion. He let out an annoyed grunt and placed his bleeding finger in his mouth, sucking on it to stop the bleeding.

For a long moment, Duo just gaped; he simply couldn't take his eyes off Heero's pale lips curled around his slender finger, sucking the injured flesh. He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, only to fix it on the man's behind.

_Shit,_ he cussed mentally and fidgeted in his seat. _This ain't happenin'. I ain't thinking 'bout that shit! No chance in all of freaking Hell!_

He continued to stare at Heero's ass.

_Shit._

Duo forced himself to look away.

"Need any help?" he looked up at Heero and asked; he was feeling awkward at his sudden sexual fixation on his only friend's body. Why in God's name was he doing that?!

"No," Heero muttered as he examined his injured finger, brining it close to his face to make sure that the bleeding had stopped. He then returned to chopping the onion, finishing with the first one and then reaching for the second onion. This time, he looked at the knife closely, to make sure that the blade was facing the right way. He adjusted his eyeglasses and chopped the second onion as well.

Duo's eyes continued to linger after Heero's every movement, his gaze on the verge of lust.

"What'ja makin'?" he asked in an attempt to find a distraction.

"Spaghetti and meatballs," Heero replied quietly.

"Oh yeah… I remember you like those," Duo said with a nostalgic smile and Heero stopped what he was doing for a moment, frowning.

"I never said I did," he claimed warily.

"Sure you did," Duo insisted; "Because they remind you of the frozen spaghetti and meatballs you used to eat when you were a kid. You said that they were yucky but you ate 'em anyway."

"Now I know you're making this up, because I would never use the term _yucky_."

Duo laughed. "Okay, maybe those weren't your _exact_ words, but I'm pretty sure you told me about it once. I didn't know you could cook 'em, though."

"I can't live on _battle rations_," Heero retorted acerbically; he was chopping angrily now, a bit _too_ angrily.

"Right, good point. I keep forgetting it's been ten years. Things sure changed, right?"

"I suppose," Heero grunted. He silently finished chopping the second onion and then poured some olive oil into a pot waiting on the stove, turned the burner on and threw the chopped onions inside.

"So, uh, you seem to have some pretty good shit goin'," Duo tried again, gesturing at the fancy living room. "What do you do in life?"

Heero paused, apparently surprised by the blunt question. He took a wooden spoon and stirred the onions simmering inside the pot.

"I try to live it out," he gave a short and bitter answer.

"Yeah? And how's that working out for ya?" Duo tried to joke, but Heero didn't seem to appreciate it. Without offering a reply, he took a can opener out of a drawer and opened the can of crushed tomatoes.

Duo sighed quietly, discouraged from speaking. He watched Heero pour the crushed tomatoes into the pot, along with the chopped onions. They sizzled loudly, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma of home cooking. Heero added water, some fresh herbs, salt and pepper, and stirred them all together. Duo watched silently, somewhat impressed. He couldn't cook for the life of him. It was just another skill out of many he hadn't bothered developing after the war; he hadn't wished to live a normal life so he never made an effort to learn anything new and productive.

"What have you been doing with _your_ life?" Heero suddenly asked, surprising Duo, who hadn't expected Heero to return the favor and be so candid.

Looking up, he ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "What have I been doing with my life?" he repeated the question, buying some time so he could come up with a more or less evasive answer. "Well, I, uh, I mostly screw 'em up," he replied in a bleak tone of voice, being as vague as possible. "That's more or less what I do," he shrugged.

"Have you gotten yourself into some sort of trouble?" Heero asked for the second time since he had arrived.

"Not lately, no," Duo replied slowly, "It's like I told ya already – I'm trying to stay out of it for a change."

Finally, Heero turned to face him. His gaze was extremely intense; it demanded nothing short of complete honesty. Duo found himself speechless under the compelling Prussian blue gaze. Heero's presence was as fierce and powerful as ever. Even though the other man now seemed somewhat smaller compared to him, his posture and demeanor were as sturdy as always; his blue eyes were ruthless as they had ever been. Everything about him radiated confidence and therefore strength. It was an unmistakable trace of the soldier Duo had admired and a certain part of him twitched inside his jeans, reminding him of the lack of attention it had suffered lately. Duo did his best to ignore it.

"Is that why you came to me?" Heero demanded to know, "So that I could keep you out of trouble again?"

Duo had to clear his throat in an attempt to find his voice again. "I guess," he mumbled and cast his gaze down, embarrassed. He hated himself for being this honest with Heero. He felt like a pathetic scumbag.

Heero sighed and Duo dared to glance up at him again, afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"Is there something you need from me?" Heero inquired harshly, "Is it money?"

While Duo really wanted to answer the question, all he could do was gape at Heero, unable to speak. Somehow, the young man standing before him, looking like a complete _dork_ with his unfashionable gray slacks and white/blue polo shirt stained with tomato sauce, his long untrimmed bangs falling over his black eyeglasses while he stood stiffly, holding a wooden spoon and looking at him with demanding blue eyes was the damn most sexist thing Duo had seen in _years_. He was speechless at the sight.

_Fuck man, am I actually getting horny? Shit. This is unreal._

"No... I didn't come here for any of that money stuff 'n shit," he finally answered Heero's question, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness inside his jeans. "I just need a... a friend, I guess. Someone who'll let me stick around until I get ma shit back together."

Heero turned back to face the stove.

"You came here looking for a friend?" he muttered skeptically as he filled a second pot with water and slammed it down on the stove in a surprisingly open display of emotion. He didn't say another word as he waited for the water to boil, nor did he turn to face Duo again.

Duo swallowed hard, not because he was offended by Heero's blunt skepticism, but rather because he was unable to tear his eyes off Heero's ass. He tried to control his shortening breath, attempting to keep his growing arousal in check.

_Heero ain't like those boys in prison. He ain't like that. I can't fuck him up like that. I __**can't.**_

He had seen many awful things in prison: rape, violence, blood and gore; he had even participated in some of those atrocious abusive acts. But all of that had changed after he had found God. For the past few years, ever since he had turned to God instead of drugs, Duo had denied himself of any sexual contact in prison. He had found that the mere thought of it disgusted him. So, all things considered, it was no wonder that now he felt aroused even at the most benign sight, right? Heero or no Heero – Duo was as horny as Hell!

Oblivious to Duo's inner struggle against his dark impulses, Heero walked to the refrigerator to take a glass container full of raw, and apparently homemade, meatballs. Limping back to the stove, he threw them one by one into the pot full of boiling tomato sauce. Duo continued to sit by the kitchen bar, resting his head against his arm and leaning forward on the polished surface. He watched Heero silently as the young man limped to the small pantry at the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a pack of spaghetti. He threw the pasta into the boiling water and stirred.

Looking at Heero's back, Duo paid careful attention to the way the young man's shoulder-blades moved as he stirred. Heero was so thin that his shoulder blades were clearly showing under the fabric of his white/blue polo T-shirt. He looked somewhat fragile, but still he stood firmly in place, his shoulders stiff and his posture as sturdy as ever. It was a confusing mixture; in front of him was a young man who almost seemed worn-out and brittle, and yet, since Duo remembered him being so strong he could bend _metal bars_, he still saw a man with an overwhelmingly powerful presence.

Again his groin tickled with a familiar sense of arousal.

_Dammit, get a hold of yourself ya fuckin' shithead! Cut-it-out ya randy bastard! Fuck!_

Taking a deep breath, Duo reached to hold his cross, drawing strength from the feeling of the heavy silver cross against his skin. He toyed with the cross pendant between his fingers, swinging it back and forth.

_I can do this,_ he assured himself. _People are more than just a piece of ass. And Heero's DEFINITELY more than that! He's my only friend. I can do this. I can make this shit go away. I don't haffta fuck to be happy. I don't haffta. I can make it so that we'll be friends again. Just friends, I swear ta God._

Duo decided that the minute he will have the time to do so, he would go out and find himself a good one-night-stand.

_No! NO! People are MORE than just a piece of ass! I know that! God knows I had enough therapy to know that! I know it! I do! But... even that damn priest would haffta agree with me that it's better to fuck some stranger up at ass then think about how I can desecrate my only friend... right?_

_...right?_

At times like this, Duo really wished that he could still consult with his priest. He simply didn't know the answers by himself. Sex was an addiction; one far greater than drugs. It became even worse after he had stopped using.

_But I'm better than this now. I don't need to fuck to be happy;_ he repeated the mantra over and over again. _Fucking won't make me happy—just for a while, maybe—no! It won't. I don't need to fuck to be happy._

His priest would have applauded his efforts, but in the end, Duo knew that they would prove futile. No amount of chanting the stupid mantra could ever cure him of his obsession. Men, women... boys, girls... it didn't matter. If there was a hole to shove his manhood in – he wanted to be in it. The compulsive urge was just something he had to learn to keep under control for the rest of his life. But dammit, it was hard! Everything in the God damned world was simply dripping with sex. Wet, hot, steamy sex... Quick, hard and violent sex... Soft, tender and loving sex... In all shapes and sizes.

He briefly recalled the image of the model in a bikini which was plastered all over the bus that drove him here. He would've fucked her good. He would've torn off her taunting little swimsuit and fuck her right there against that fucking bus. He could picture it clearly: the tall, enticing brunette slammed against the hot metallic surface of the bus, her perky tits scorched with pleasurable burning pain as she hits the heated metal. She would scream in ecstasy, her slim hands shooting up into the air, banging against the bus as she was fucked like a bitch from behind. He would flip her over quickly and her long legs would wrap around his waist tightly as he would continue thrusting into her right there and then in front of a dozen appalled passengers. Fuck yeah. That would definitely be enough to calm the irksome burning in his loins.

_Just IGNORE it,_ Duo told himself and struggled to focus on anything but Heero's body or thoughts of that model. _Ignore it and it'll go away. You ain't fucking anyone today, so just IGNORE it._

The kitchen was filling with a mouthwatering aroma of tomatoes, herbs and meat. Duo tried hard to concentrate on the hunger in his stomach instead of his loins'. Straightening in his chair, he rested his arms on the bar top and folded his palms together, balling them into a nervous fist. Hesitantly, he looked up at Heero, whose back was still facing his way.

"Look, uh... Heero," he began slowly, hoping to gain the other man's attention and maybe even earn a glance, but Heero didn't turn to face him. Sighing, Duo decided to continue anyway.

"See, I know that, I mean, I _bet_ I know that you're pissed as Hell at me and the guys. For leaving, I mean." He paused for a moment, waiting for Heero's reaction, but other than stiffening his shoulders further, Heero didn't say a word.

"It was selfish," Duo continued carefully, hoping that Heero was at least listening. "We hurried to carry on with our lives and it wasn't sumthin' friends should do."

The dog began barking and scraping against the laundry room's door. Heero went to open it and let the animal out. The large Golden Retriever quickly ran out of the small room and began circling the kitchen, getting in Heero's way as he tried to get back to the stove.

Duo wondered if he should even bother to continue, because Heero didn't seem to be paying him any attention. The young man was more concerned with the damn dog than with him. He watched Heero use the wooden spoon to scoop a meatball out of the pot and serve it to the dog. The damn beast practically _inhaled_ the food off Heero's hand, licking the man's palm when it was done eating. Duo found it disgusting.

Heero then patted lightly on the dog's head and returned to tend his cooking.

"What's its name again?" Duo asked, thinking that perhaps it would be better to speak about something Heero actually cared about. It seemed to work, for Heero finally responded.

"Chowder," he said quietly as he stirred the spaghetti in the pot.

"Chowder? Like the fish soup?"

"Yes."

"Why name a dog after a soup?"

"Because," Heero mumbled as he scooped another meatball out of the pot; he handed it to Chowder, which consumed it hungrily.

"Because what?"

"Just because."

"Makes sense," Duo muttered sarcastically. "It's a popular dog name, ain't it?"

"I suppose it is."

"Yanno," Duo added lightly, hoping that now that he had Heero's attention he could finally say what was on his mind for the past year. "I was kinda hoping we could start over, or pick up where we left. Whichever idiom suits you."

This time he was _sure_ that Heero would react somehow, but the other young man remained silent. Chowder seemed to be listening though, staring at him curiously and watching him with its big dumb brown eyes.

"I mean, it's not like you made any effort to keep in touch, right? Communication goes both ways, yanno? But I ain't mad or nuthin'. I mean, if things were the other way around, I wouldn't shut the door in your face or anything like that."

Heero finally turned to face Duo; there was spiteful and angry look in his deep blue eyes. He leaned against the kitchen-top, crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his stern gaze on Duo.

Duo swallowed. "But, uh... I mean... okay, that's not the best of excuses, but cut me some slack here, okay? We just got out of a nasty war… I needed a break, yanno?" He sighed, shaking his head guiltily. "Maybe I shoulda handled things better, but you didn't stick around so I couldn't even _try_. You just split, man!" He dared to look up at Heero again. The man was still looking at him sternly. Duo wasn't even sure what he was being accused of anymore.

"It's not like I was the only one who left when shit ended... and hey! It seems like I'm the only one who came back, so I get credit for that – right?" He wasn't really sure _what_ he was trying to say anymore, or if he really wanted to know Heero's thoughts on the matter. All he wanted was to sweep matters under the rug and move on already!

But by the time he was done ranting, Heero seemed even angrier, almost insulted. He glared harshly at Duo. "I wasn't waiting for anyone to _come back_," he remarked coldly; the sting in his tone seemed to suggest otherwise. "Have you even considered that I had my reasons for _splitting_?"

Duo sighed petulantly. He could tell that Heero was being purposeful nasty, imitating him in a cynical and scornful way. It wasn't like the Heero he used to know; the Heero he used to know wasn't so damn bitter.

"Listen, man," he tried again; "bottom line is – I know you're mad but I'm here now and I wanna make things better. And I ain't leaving 'til they are – got it?"

It was very forward and very harsh, but to the best of his knowledge, Heero had always responded best to rough treatment.

Silence fell over the kitchen. Curios by the exchange of words, Chowder turned its head back and forth from Heero to Duo, waiting for one of them to speak again.

"I'm giving you _one week_," Heero finally muttered and turned back to the stove. He stirred the meatballs inside the tomato sauce, his back facing Duo and his shoulders stiff with silent anger.

"One week," he repeated as he grabbed a stainless steel colander that was waiting by the stove-top. Chowder stood up, wagging its tail, happy to see that food would soon be served. "For old times' sake," he explained. "Get your act back together by then, because after that, you're out of here."

Heero turned off the burner swiftly. Chowder let out a single bark, as though warning Heero about an unseen menace.

Duo grinned slyly. "Thanks man, you won't regret it."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued on January 16 2015<strong>

**Until then, f****eel free to check out the teaser I made for this story (link available on my profile page).**

**Oh, and please review! Please!**

**Elle**


	4. Chapter 02: Stumble

**One Week**

**Part 4/20**

**Chapter 02: Stumble**

Pleased with himself, Duo sat still while Heero served two plates full of spaghetti and meatballs to the kitchen bar, which also served as a dining table. After pouring the leftover spaghetti and meatballs into a bowl and placing it on the floor for Chowder to eat as well, Heero dragged a bar-chair to the other side of the counter, opposite from where Duo was sitting, and finally sat down to eat.

The two young men ate in silence. The only sound to fill the apartment was that of the dog loudly devouring the food in its bowl, content with its share of the meal. Duo held his fork up in the air, not touching his own meal even though he was starving. All of a sudden, he had lost his appetite. Now that he had Heero back – at least for a week – he was nervous. Heero's courtesy felt like nothing more than an old obligation being fulfilled reluctantly.

One week; it was more than he probably deserved, but still – he had hoped for so much more. He had hoped for acceptance. He tried to apologize and still Heero was treating him with eerie politeness and barely contained anger. Duo could see the resentment in Heero's eyes; it hurt even more than the look in Quatre's eyes after— no, he shouldn't think about that right now. He was in a foul mood as it were; he didn't need to think about _that_ at the moment. For now, he should concentrate on finding a way to get on Heero's good side again. Heero was still his friend; all Duo had to do was remind him they were friends. After he'd jog Heero's memory up a bit, the man would see that them being together again was the most natural thing in the whole fucking world. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Duo finally turned to his meal. He was surprised by how good it tasted and decided that a compliment to the chef was a good start as any. "This is great," he said, taking another mouthful of the dish. "Really, I'm impressed. The only thing I can do for lunch is order takeout." _Or bully some fresh-meat inmate into giving me his meal_.

Heero nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment and continued to eat silently.

"Do you want me to do the dishes later?" Duo offered with a forced friendly smile.

Heero shook his head. "I have a dishwasher."

"Man, you sure are living in style."

"It's a dishwasher, not a _Ferrari_," Heero muttered, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. He reached for his glass of water and sipped it quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Duo gaped quietly at Heero. There it was again: cynicism. It was not something he was used to hear in Heero's voice. Hell, he wasn't used to hear _anything_ in Heero's voice! As far as he could recall, the guy used to talk like a damn automaton; it would have taken a fucking A-bomb shoved down his throat in order to make his voice waver even the slightest.

"Yeah, well, it's more than I could ever afford," Duo finally responded and shrugged, trying to appear careless.

"The annuity payments should have provided you with enough money," Heero pointed out as he placed his drink down. "Combined with any occupation," he continued, "it should have been more than enough for you to live a comfortable life. What have you been wasting your money on?"

"Oh, yanno, just some stuff I shouldn't have purchased," Duo did his best to be vague. "It ate up all of my savings." _And not to mention my fucking __**mind**__, _he added mentally.

"Are you in some kind of debt?"

"No, no, really, I ain't. I already covered all of my debts, paid all of my dues... but it left me kinda broke and sorta homeless."

Heero adjusted his eyeglasses and turned to gaze at Duo evenly. "Don't you have any friends to turn to?"

After a short pause, Duo shook his head. "Uhm, no, not really," he confessed solemnly. He hadn't missed out on the fact that Heero had deliberately excluded himself from the question; he didn't ask if he had any _"other" _friends, so he obviously didn't consider himself as one.

Heero seemed skeptic. "So you are telling me that in over ten years, you haven't made any new connections with people."

"Oh, no! I made plenty of 'em!" Duo exclaimed defensively; "Just not the kind connections I shoulda made, if yanno what I mean."

Heero frowned. "I don't," he let out dryly. "What about the others?" he raised the question Duo was afraid would come.

Instead of answering it, he hurried to get up and grabbed his plate. "How about I put this stuff in the dishwasher for you, huh?" he offered, trying to change the subject. He marched into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Heero turned in his chair to face him. It didn't look like he was going to let him off the hook so easily.

"You done with that?" Duo asked, pointing at Heero's unfinished meal.

Heero nodded and pushed his plate towards Duo.

"What do you mean by making the wrong connections?" he demanded; "Are you in trouble?"

"No, man! Would you quit asking me that?! Didn't you believe me the first _two times_ I said it? Gimme a break, already!"

Angry, Duo snatched the glasses and utensils off the table as well, before heading back to the dishwasher.

Sighing, Heero got up, preparing to leave the kitchen. "Damn it," he muttered tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though to ease a headache.

Alarmed by Heero's somberness, Duo whirled his head up to look at the other man. He was still leaning over the dishwasher, arranging the dirty dishes inside. He straightened up and tried to conjure up an honest expression while facing his host.

"Look, Heero, I made some major fuck-ups over the years, okay?" he admitted bleakly. He took a step closer towards the other man, looking Heero in the eye. "But I really don't wanna talk 'bout it right now, so, just this once, cut me some slack, 'kay? I could really use a friend so please just gimme a chance to get my act back together before I start explaining shit."

For a moment, Heero stood silently, looking at Duo with contemplating blue eyes. Then, his expression hardened coldly. "Do not confuse my offer of hospitality for friendship." He pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose, wincing slightly. It looked like he was dealing with a nasty headache.

At the silent sign of distress, Chowder approached its owner and nuzzled its face against the man's legs. In return, Heero reached a hand down to pet the dog's furry golden head. Duo observed the two silently, frowning. He had never seen Heero allow anyone or anything offer him comfort before. Hell, he had never seen him display weakness so openly before. He didn't know why, but he felt betrayed by the atypical sight.

The dense silence was becoming eerie. The young man simply _stood_ there, unmoving, his arms dangling limply at the sides of his body. He was staring at Duo numbly as though looking straight through him.

"Then, uhm, at least lemme clean this mess up for ya," Duo suggested carefully.

Heero blinked and leveled his gaze with Duo, this time focusing directly at him. His pale features hardened into a familiar glare. "I can take care of my own _damn mess_," he grumbled sullenly; "I don't need you to screw things up as you usually do."

"Da Hell, man?" Duo called in protest; "Da fuck you mean I screw shit up?" he objected almost automatically. For a split of a second he was attacked by a nasty sense of déjà vu, feeling as though he had just traveled back in time and was bickering with Heero over battle-skills or whatnot.

"I ain't some dumb klutz, yanno!" he whined as he had done so many times before, playing the fool just for the sake of a friendly squabble. It felt awkward. He had long outgrown having to justify himself to Heero, yet there he was, arguing much like he had done during wartime:

"I piloted a damn _Gundam_ for God's sake! I think I can load a fucking _dishwasher!_ Fuck, I can do both at the same time – with my eyes closed and my hands behind my back!"

Heero frowned, like he was finding it hard to decipher the long and hasty stream of words pouring out of Duo's mouth. Eventually, he shook his head, sighing in disappointment. "That's exactly my point," he replied steadily; "You make a parade out of everything. You're too conspicuous. All you care about is making fri—" Suddenly, Heero fell abruptly silent, as though he had just realized something was terribly wrong. He hurried to close his mouth shut and bowed his head to gaze at the floor, while mumbling a silent: _"shit"._

Duo frowned warily. "You okay man?"

"I'm fine," Heero muttered and looked back up again. Without sparing Duo a glance, he turned towards the corridor. "I'm going to bed."

"To bed?" Duo repeated in wonder; "Already? Are you sure you're okay? Da Hell's goin' on with you? Da fuck was this about anyway?"

Heero's back, which was now facing Duo, stiffened. "Be quiet," he muttered disdainfully and let his shoulders slump down. He walked away without another word. Chowder followed Heero, wagging its tail. Duo remained standing alone in the kitchen, frowning in confusion. He heard Heero close his bedroom door behind him, and his frowned deepened.

* * *

><p>With nothing better to do after Heero locked himself in his room, Duo turned to clean the kitchen. Soon the small dishwasher was loaded and the kitchen was sparkly clean; Duo had even wiped off the mess Chowder had made on the floor, spilling spaghetti and meatballs all over the place. It felt good to be helpful; he felt more worthwhile now that he could help Heero, even if it was just a little thing like cleaning up after a meal.<p>

It was too damn hot. Plopping down on the black leather sofa in the living room, Duo shed his sweaty red T-shirt and threw it the floor. Shirtless, he remained only with a silver necklace and a cross pendant falling over his slightly hairy and well-toned chest. Bending down, he took off his heavy black boots and wrinkled his nose at the stanch of his smelly socks. He took them off as well and shoved them into his boots. Wriggling his toes, he leaned back against the sofa, placed two hands behind his head and sighed contently as he melted against the sofa.

_I sure missed the simple things,_ he mused, stretching his arms lazily above his head. Finally, after nearly a decade, he felt normal again. He felt like himself again; like the person he could always be next to Heero. For a brief moment, his mind was clear. He wasn't even thinking about sex – a rare occasion indeed. Coming to see Heero was a good idea; he was finally able to think straight and that was already great progress. The dirty thoughts that ran through his head while Heero made lunch were just a stupid slipup; an abnormality caused by jetlag, hunger and fatigue. Yeah, that must be it. He would never think of Heero _that_ way. Never; Heero was too sacred in his eyes, too holy to be defiled by such foul, sinful, thoughts. He will never touch Heero that way... not ever. He will never touch anyone that way again. _Never_.

Duo squirmed uneasily on the sofa; he knew that he was lying to himself. The cross hanging over his nude chest suddenly felt a bit heavier than usual. Somewhere many miles away, his priest was probably frowning scornfully; as he always did when Duo confessed his sinful desires and acts of desecration. Confession was like sweeping his sins under the rug. He was always offered forgiveness in prayers; his sins were washed away every Sunday and maybe that was why he had continued sinning Monday to Friday. He had a prison-bitch for every day of the freaking week; a whole entourage of _pussy-boys_. It was well known around the L4 penal colony that it was better to give him what he wanted rather than to face the consequences of his dismay.

There was this one bitch-boy... Ali. He used to call him _"Ally"_ for fun. He was a young, and taciturn Mediterranean boy with smooth dark-mocha skin, a wild mane of thick black hair and a fierce pair of honey-brown eyes that gleamed with cold, stern, defiance. The boy was doing time for petty acts of terror against the Israeli Colony in the L4 cluster. Duo could still remember the first time he had laid eyes on him. The kid soon became one of his favorite punks in prison. He was the one who turned him into a pussy-boy in the first place and he took pride in that achievement. _Ally _was better off with him anyway. But instead of thanking him for taking him under his wing and protection, the damn kid finally killed himself. The priest said that it was his fault for abusing his power over the poor kid. That was bullshit. The kid was tough, spiteful and fierce; that was why he had enjoyed him so much... enjoyed breaking him and then picking up the pieces, only to break him again and again... Maybe that was what hurt Ally—_Ali_ the most. If he hadn't shown any kindness at all, perhaps Ali would have been able to take it, to survive by his defiance alone. The kid simply didn't know what to make of the compassion he had bestowed on him from time to time, and that was why he chose to end the abuse by taking his own life.

That was a major wake up call, and the reason why he decided to ditch drugs and sex and turn to God for absolution instead. He filled his head with words of the Lord rather than thoughts of carnal lust. He had vowed that Ali will be his last sin, and that was why Heero had nothing to worry about. All he sought was friendship, really. As God was his witness, his "pussy-boys days" were over. Heero was to be his sanctuary from all sinful thoughts.

But Heero wasn't around at the moment and he was so hot...

Duo's sweaty nude back stuck to the leather backrest, becoming an uncomfortable nuisance. The smell of leather and sweat reeked of sex and threatened to compromise the scarce calmness he felt. It was so damn hot and humid. The sultry heat was too much. It was so... _steamy_.

"Fuck it," Duo grumbled and wiped the sweat off his brow swiftly. "I ain't goin' down this road..." he promised himself and got up. He went to close the large living room window. Bright afternoon sunshine was flooding the apartment, heating it up, so he also shut the wooden blinds. Once shaded, the apartment already felt much cooler. He could breathe again without hearing needy gasps in the back of his head.

As he was standing by the home office which stood under the window, Duo spotted a high-tech air conditioning unit hanging on the wall above it. He turned to search for the AC's remote control, assuming that it lay somewhere on the desk.

It was a small and neat home office. He supposed that Heero was running some sort of business from home. Duo wondered what the business might be, because it looked like Heero was earning a fine income out of it. Everything was arranged neatly on the desk: writing supplies, a rolodex, a calendar, post-it notes and a pocket planner.

Curiously, Duo flipped the planner open and leafed through a few pages. Heero's handwriting filled the pages and Duo realized that he had never seen his handwriting before (Heero had always used a tablet or a laptop, never mere pen and paper). He took a moment to look closely at the few lines written here and there. Looking at the letters raised a funny gooey feeling in his chest. There was something very personal about a one's handwriting; some believed it to be a window into one's soul. Looking at the writing made him feel as though he was looking at something very intimate and very _Heero_. His writing wasn't as neat and accurate as he had expected from someone so disciplined. The letters were small and round, introvert like the person who wrote them, but the writing didn't follow a straight, tidy, line. Up and down they went, tilting slantwise here and there... it was a graphologist's paradise. Duo wondered what it all meant, perhaps it indicated some sort of inner turmoil? Whatever it was, looking at it raised Goosebumps on his skin. There were secrets to be uncovered.

Most of the writing in the planner regarded various appointments. As he ran through nearly the entire planner, Duo noticed a strange thing. At the bottom of almost every page, Heero had written a bold title: **_DON'T FORGET!_** Under it he had scribbled down all sort of seemingly useless stuff such as:

_Friday: Club America – Toluca 3-2_

_Told Marissa about next Tuesday. Agreed to make up for it Sunday._

_IMPORTANT! Promised KPL Technologies a 3% discount_

_Spoke to Jerry about Mark. Said he'll look into it & keep me apprised._

_Club America – Toluca semifinals. Promised Adriel we watch together: 09.03.207_

_Cancelled Grabelsky. No rescheduling!_

_XBMC Inc. said they'll sign the deal. Already confirmed with Carlos TWICE!_

_Puebla F.C – Club America 5-4. Owe Jerry a damn soda!_

Duo had to laugh at the last one. "A soda? Da fuck? Usually you owe someone a beer, yanno..."

The memos went on and on; it seemed as though Heero had listed almost every little thing he had said, seen or done. It was strange, because usually people wrote down things they had to do in the future, and not thing they had already done.

_Looks like he totally OCDed all over his planner, _Duo thought with a smirk. _Good ta know I ain't the only one who's fucked-up like shit._

Somewhat encouraged by the realization, Duo closed the planner. He found the air-con's remote control next to the keyboard, and turned the unit on. The AC came to life with a low _'beep'_ and cool air began rushing out of the unit, chasing the heat away. Feeling nice and cool, Duo went back to the sofa. He lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling, taking pleasure in the serenity of the moment. The apartment was very silent. The silence sounded strange in Duo's ears, eerie. He wasn't used to it. Prison was always so noisy, constantly full of murmuring and clattering, even in the wee hours of the night. Duo supposed that he would have to get used to the silence again; he would have to become accustomed to many other seemingly ordinary things, such as privacy and common human courtesy.

Even though the AC was working, he was still so damn hot! There was an irksome feeling prickling under his skin, something deeper and more bothersome than sweat. The heat he felt was not due to the damn Earth's summer blazing outside; it was a heat that burnt inside him, an urge that ached to be satisfied. It was a burning desire he was most familiar with; a demon that lived inside of him, begging to be unleashed. After Ali died, he had begged the prison priest to exorcise this demon out of him, but no amount of praying could pacify it. Sex was all he could think about. Thought of carnal lust were burying him alive. He could not control it, stop it, or bring himself to put enough effort into reducing his need for it. He would get stressful, restless and most of the time violent if he couldn't get some. He tried to keep his mind occupied with words of God instead of blasphemous thoughts of sex, but even then he had slipped. Luckily, that sort of thing was common in prison. At least there, he could let the demon out once in a while. Now he was fighting to keep that devil bottled up inside him... and that was hard. If he could only just—

No!

He mustn't.

He wanted to, so much...

But he mustn't.

He wasn't in prison anymore. He mustn't repeat what he had done to Ali. He couldn't just crawl into another man's bed and force himself onto him! But Heero's closed bedroom door was beckoning him... teasing him... a closed door was an invitation; a temptation he could not resist. Heero always shut him out and it never stopped him from coming closer before; quite the contrary, it was a welcomed challenge. There wasn't anywhere he couldn't break into, and that included the _Perfect Soldier's_ heart. Of course, unlike with Ali, his intentions towards Heero have always been pure. He hadn't broken inside Heero's walls with the intent to steal his heart or anything as remotely dramatic as that sort of bullshit. All he sought was companionship during wartime; someone he could depend on when push came to shove. His needs were strictly platonic and he eventually found that they corresponded with Heero's needs for human compassion. They were lost, troubled, and alone; all they had was each other, no matter how much Heero tried to deny it.

Duo has always suspected that Heero's shunning him was all an act meant to keep up the pretense of _"The Perfect Soldier"_ bullshit. It was a shield Heero raised against his own humanity. Why else did he have eventually let his walls down and succumbed to Duo's persistent attempt to form a friendship? Deep down Heero wanted to be approached. Deep down, he probably wanted the same thing Duo did: to be touched, to be accepted as he was by another human being. It was a basic need of socialization, pure and innocent. Yet now... now Duo's need was tainted, twisted and soiled beyond disgrace. That closed bedroom door was calling unto him and he felt its cry echo in regions of him that weren't meant for friendship. They were dark, stormy seas raging with wants he fought to suppress since Ali's untimely death.

"Ah, damn," Duo grunted, and turned over to lie on his side, curling on the squeaky leather sofa so that his back was facing the room, so he wouldn't have to look in the direction of that room. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Ali's fierce honey-brown eyes glaring back at him with a familiar passion he often saw in Heero's eyes. Ali's intensely silent demeanor had often reminded him of Heero. He simply had to make the boy _his_. He had even marked him as his own, cutting and scarring him where only he was allowed to reach, just like he had done to Quatre's—

"FUCK!" Duo called and jumped up, jerking off the sofa. He wasn't going to think about _any_ of that anymore! He was going out of his mind when Heero wasn't around. He decided to take a small peek into the room, that's all. Just an innocent look. He'll just check if Heero was asleep or not and that would be it. It will put his mind at ease if he could only see him; that's it.

Barefoot and clad only in a pair of jeans and a cross pendant dangling over his chest, Duo padded softly on the hardwood floor, walking down the corridor towards Heero's bedroom. It was the only other room aside from the bathroom. He knocked gently on the door, but received no reply.

"Heero?" he whispered and carefully tried to open the door.

It was locked.

_"Da fuck?_" he wondered, offended. Was Heero so wary of him that he actually _locked_ the door while he was asleep? That was psychotic. Completely paranoid! And it pissed Duo off!

He grabbed the doorknob tightly, leaned forcefully but quietly against the wooden door and twisted the doorknob _hard._ The lock gave a little struggle and finally opened with a silent _'click'_. Satisfied, Duo opened the door to peek inside the room. Heero was a fool to believe that a simple doorknob-lock could keep him out of a room. Really, it wasn't like the man to be so naïve. A locked door was an even greater invitation for a curious crook such as him. Heero should have known better.

Looking inside, Duo ran his gaze over the room, wondering what Heero was trying to hide from him by locking the door. There was a large window opposite of the door; it was covered with blinds similar to the ones in living room. The shutters were closed, allowing only thin strips of sunlight to fall on the hardwood floor and onto the bed. A ceiling fan was hanging above the bed, working to circulate the air within the room. The bedroom itself wasn't large and like everything else in the apartment it was modestly and esthetically decorated.

Duo spotted a nightstand by the bed; there was an orange pill container on it, along with an empty glass of water. Heero lay in the center of the bed, deep asleep. Chowder lay next to him. The young man's arm was draped around its neck, hugging the animal as it rested its head on his chest.

Chowder opened its eyes and lifted its head off Heero's chest, looking up at Duo with a pair of wary brown eyes. It was as though the damn beast was making sure that Duo wouldn't step into the room and violate Heero's sanctuary. He ignored the stupid dog and turned his gaze back at Heero.

The young man had slipped out of his day clothes and remained dressed only in a white tank-top undershirt and a pair of white boxer-briefs. The thin white fabric clung to his moist skin, emphasizing the young man's flimsy figure. Strips of afternoon sunlight fell over his still body, drawing Duo's eyes to every curve of flesh. He stood at the door and allowed himself to appreciate the sight silently.

His eyes lingered to the slow and steady movement of Heero's chest. He allowed his gaze to travel down, across Heero's flat abdomen. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he dared allow his eyes to travel further down. He stopped to stare at the bulge evident under Heero's white boxer-briefs and his mouth went dry. Slowly, his gaze moved down Heero's slightly hairy thighs, to his firm legs and finally stopped to stare at a long, thick white scar running across the side of his left leg. Was that why he limped?

He thought he saw something in the corner of his eyes. Something was floating leisurely across the room; something small and silvery was drifting in the room as though there was no gravity. As soon as he tried to focus his gaze on it, it was gone, twinkling out of existence. Duo blinked to get his vision straight. His gaze shifted back to look at Heero, asleep on the bed. Once again he drank the sight of the man's partially dressed body, until he caught himself and jerked back.

_Da fuck am I doin'?!_ He quickly looked away, taking a staggering step back. _I must be goin' outta my fucking mind. I need to get laid and fast, before I lose it completely._

Chowder was glaring at him now, protective of its owner. Keeping eye contact with the damn dog, Duo retreated and closed the door behind him silently. He decided that it was time to take a _really_ cold shower.

After both showering and relieving himself of pent-up sexual pressure, Duo felt much better. Whistling, he toweled himself dry and slipped into the only other outfit he had: a black cotton tank top and baggy men shorts. His shoulder-length hair dripped water onto his bare shoulders as he exited the bathroom. Walking down the hall he heard soft scraping coming from Heero's bedroom. By the sound of it, Chowder was scratching its paws against the wooden door, asking to come out.

Carefully, Duo opened the door and allowed the dog to exit the room. The large Golden Retriever quickly rushed past him, wagging its tail as it made its way towards the kitchen. Duo briefly peeked into the bedroom, noting that Heero was still deep asleep; he had rolled onto his side, facing the window. Duo tried not to gape at the young man's delicious ass and shut the door quietly.

Leaving the AC on, Duo settled on the leather sofa, lying on his back. He rested a hand over his chest, playing with the cross pendant as he stared at the ceiling, emptying his mind of troublesome thoughts.

By the time Chowder padded softly into the living room, Duo had already fallen asleep. His head lolled to the side, but his hand still protectively covered his cross as he sunk into a deep slumber.

The large dog settled on the carpet at the foot of the sofa, lying down with its head tucked between its front legs. It continued to lie there, guarding its owner by keeping an eye on Duo as the sun set outside the living room window.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Duo was awakened by the sound of clattering coming from the kitchen. Groggily, he moaned in protest of the noise. Something metallic clanked against something ceramic and Duo's eyes snapped wide open. With a short gasp, he sat up, ready to fight for whatever reason his current cellmate wished to wrestle for.<p>

It only took him a second to realize that he was not waking up in his cell, but rather on a stiff leather sofa in Heero's apartment. The apartment was dark, aside from the harsh fluorescent light emitting from the kitchen. The air conditioning has been turned off and judging by the heavy silence, it was either very late at night or very early in the morning.

Running a hand through his messy shoulder-length hair, Duo looked up. He saw Heero standing in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee. The young man was dressed in simple black tracksuit pants and a white T-shirt that hung baggily from his slim shoulders. He wasn't wearing his eyeglasses and for a moment Duo was surprised to see a trace of the person he had once known, a hint of Wartime Heero, _his _Heero. For a while, all he could do was ogle at the young man standing in the kitchen, appreciating the welcomed sight of his long lost friend. He hoped Heero would continue walking around without his eyeglasses. He looked so much better that way; he looked like himself again.

Chowder barked, signaling Duo's awakening. The dog was standing next to Heero, looking up at its owner, happily wagging its tail as if it too was expecting a cup of coffee.

"Wha' time's it?" Duo yawned the question, stretching.

"Half past four," Heero replied quietly, sipping his coffee.

Duo stopped in mid-stretch, his arms high above his head. "Da fuck!"

"Go back to sleep," the other man said calmly and took another sip from his beverage.

"Nah, it's cool," Duo shrugged helplessly, "I'm up."

After one more good stretch (the sofa was killing his back), Duo got up. He walked to the kitchen bar and took a seat on one of the bar chairs facing the kitchen. Heero placed his cup of coffee on the kitchen top and went into the laundry room to pour food into Chowder's bowl.

"Why up so early?" Duo called after him, "You haffta go to work?"

"I've had enough sleep," Heero explained as he walked back into the kitchen, almost tripping over Chowder as the dog ran to have its breakfast. Apparently, Heero had failed to see Chowder coming; he lost his balance and had to quickly reach to grab the worktop to keep from falling. Duo found it odd that Heero failed to see the large dog which was practically under his nose. Maybe he didn't see the damn canine because he had no eyeglasses on?

With a silent sigh, Heero stabilized himself. He reached for his cup of coffee again. There was also a piece of toast smeared with jam resting on a plate next to the electric kettle. Heero took a small bite of toast and then gestured with it towards Duo, wordlessly asking if he wanted some.

"Nah, thanks," Duo shook his head, "Can't stomach anything this early." Prison routine and diet had forced his stomach to grow accustomed to digesting on a very strict schedule which was set in stone – a major hindrance on those distant nights he had once spent getting high and suffering from a terrible case of the munchies.

Heero nodded and resumed eating his plain breakfast. Duo continued to sit by the kitchen bar and simply gaze at Heero. Dressed in a baggy tracksuit pants and T-shirt, the young man seemed even frailer than he had before. His pale complexion and stubble-covered face only added to his unkempt appearance.

Heero took one last sip before placing the coffee mug back down and then walked out of the kitchen. He limped slightly as he walked to the door, and Duo turned in his chair so he could still face him. He noted that Heero was wearing a pair of battered sneakers.

"Goin' someplace?" His voice felt awfully loud in the pre-dawn silence engulfing the dark apartment.

Heero didn't bother answering the obvious. He reached for a dog leash hanging on a wall hangar by the door. The moment Chowder heard the leash being lifted it rushed out of the laundry room towards the door, barking and wagging its tail excitedly.

"Oh, you're taking Chowder out for a walk?" Duo let out another rhetorical question as he watched Heero kneel in front of the dog and secure the leash to its collar. Chowder barked, looking anxiously at the door.

"Mind if I join you?"

Heero turned to unlock the door. He hadn't said 'no', so Duo took it for a 'yes'. Smiling, he jumped off the bar chair and hurried towards the sofa, where he had left his boots. He put them on swiftly, wearing yesterday's stinky socks. He was still dressed in a black tank top along with baggy shorts, which made the boots seem very out of place. Combined with his tattoo and the large silver cross dangling over his shirt, Duo imagined that he looked like some damn _wangster_. Of course, he couldn't care less about how he looked. He hurried to join Heero at the door.

"Ready for my walk!" he declared.

"So baka," Heero muttered in response to Duo's joke and opened the door.

Duo grinned, pleased. During the war, Heero had often called him that when he wasn't pleased with something he had said or done. Assuming that the word was in Japanese, he had looked it up in the dictionary and found that "baka" meant "fool", AKA _idiot_; the nickname was quite suitable, he supposed. Even though it wasn't a_ real_ term of affection, it still was a word Heero had designated solely for him and Duo took pride in the fact that Heero chose to nickname him in his mother tongue. It made it more special somehow. He'd gladly act the fool for Heero anytime; anything to loosen up the tight restraint around the young man's soul.

He hurried to follow Heero outside. Chowder already went ahead the moment the door opened. It anxiously pulled Heero with it towards the elevator, as if hurrying to get its owner away from Duo.

* * *

><p>The sun hasn't risen yet, although it signaled its approach by painting the skies with soft pre-dawn shades of pink and blue. The air was cool and very humid. Moisture covered cars with a layer of morning dew. A solid heavy silence filled the empty streets as the city of Philadelphia began rising from its nightly slumber.<p>

Duo and Heero walked down the narrow side-street in which Heero lived, heading towards the main road. It was a modern urban neighborhood, filled with low-rise apartment buildings, offices, cafés, restaurants, shops and community spaces. The two walked side by side as Chowder led the way, sniffing everything in its path. Heero was walking at an almost snail's pace, perhaps due to his light limp, and Duo found himself having to slow down every now and then to even his pace with Heero's. Chowder had no such problem; held by a very long leash, the dog was way ahead of the two, looking about excitedly.

Shoving both hands into his short's pockets, Duo tried to enjoy the silence for a change. Such serene moments had been rare in his life. In the past he had even resented those inactive moments, but now he found them very soothing. He took his time looking around at where rows of high-rise apartment buildings towered in the distance. All around them, the city gradually came to life as the traffic began picking up and a few shop-owners opened their shop in order to receive merchandize from trucks parked in the back.

Duo regretted forgetting his cigarettes back in Heero's place. It's been too long since he had last had a smoke. It was unlike him to remain so calm without one; usually he would become very irritable and moody if he hadn't smoked in over an hour. He wondered if the sudden patience was a result of being next to Heero; he felt very at ease while walking next to the other man. For the first time in years he could honestly say that he felt some peace of mind. A smoke would have made the moment perfect, but he wasn't as anxious to smoke as he usually was; that was enough proof that being next to Heero made him better.

Heero was very quiet. He kept his gaze on the ground as he walked, holding Chowder's leash. Duo assumed that Heero wasn't as fascinated by normalcy as he was; after all, he hadn't lacked it for the past ten years. In fact, Heero seemed to have settled into normalcy quite well. Perhaps he even took comfort in living an ordinary life. He probably found mundane life no less of a challenge than his past as a Gundam pilot. At least, that's what Duo had been told about how he should view his own life. Not once did his priest tell him that if he would only treat everyday life as an adventure, he wouldn't get into so much trouble. Maybe Heero has figured it out all on his own; he was always so much better at doing things _just_ _right_.

Looking up at the man walking silently by his side, Duo couldn't help but smile to himself. He was actually feeling proud of Heero for managing to pull through the war as a normal and stable person. He was a bit envious too, but that just meant that he had someone to learn from, someone to look up to. He had always idolized Heero in one way or another. _All the more reason to stick around the dude_, he figured. If only he could convince Heero that he was someone worth keeping around. He hadn't done anything noteworthy in his post-war life; but maybe sticking by Heero's side would help him find a reason to keep going.

He studied the man's profile, allowing his eyes to absorb every little detail of Heero's face; from the messy mop of chocolate-brown bangs falling casually over his forehead, down to his deep Prussian blue eyes accented by fine eyelashes moving up and down as he blinked, to his perfectly carved nose and stubble-covered chin; finally, he stopped to gaze at the young man's pale lips, pressed together tightly in a bleak expression typical of Heero. Now that the man chose not to wear his eyeglasses, Duo could finally see the friend he had been searching for.

He decided to break the heavy silence and get a conversation going.

"So – why Philly?" he asked. He always started a conversation with Heero as though it was already in progress. He had learned a long time ago that it was the best way to get a reaction out of Heero, for it usually piqued his curiosity.

The young man lifted his head up turned to look at Duo, puzzled. "What?" he asked snappily and Duo rolled his eyes. He would have thought that Heero would get used to it by now. Then again, it _has_ been a while.

"I mean, why did you choose to live here, outta all places?"

Heero stared at him for a moment longer before he turned to fix his gaze far ahead on where Chowder was sniffing a fire hydrant.

"I just did," he muttered reluctantly.

"I woulda figured you'd go back up to L1 or sumthin'."

Heero frowned at him. "Why would you assume that?"

"Gee, _I dunno_," Duo rolled his eyes; "Maybe cuz you're _from_ there?"

"I never told you that," Heero argued and Duo frowned, stumped.

"You didn't? Well, maybe I figured you're from there cuz you're part Japanese? I mean, them people on L1 are mostly Yankees and Japs, so it makes sense."

"It hardly does," Heero grunted. "You can't possibly assume that based solely on my appearance."

"Sure I can! I mean, I'm not _blind_. I can tell you're a half-breed so it don't take no_ genius_ to figure out you're from L1. Me for example, I got L2-trash written allova me. Hell, I can't open ma damn mouth without lettin' it show I got some L2-_Dixie-blood_ in me," he joked, deliberately emphasizing his usually light Southern American accent.

"A _half-breed?_" Heero repeated Duo's careless remark about his origin. "I am not some _mutt,_" he grumbled coldly.

"Okay, okay, _sorry_," Duo raised his hands up in the air. "I didn't know how else to say it, okay? Like I said: nothing but some_ dumb_ L2-trash over here. Fuck me if I know how I picked up this damn _hillbilly_ accent, but somehow it just stuck," he concluded with a carefree shrug of his shoulders.

"It stuck because you insisted on hanging with the wrong crowds," Heero rebuked. Duo gaped at him for a moment, surprised by his insight, and then shrugged.

"I guess I did," he muttered; "Anyways, I didn't mean to make you sound like some _mongrel_," he emphasized the word just to spite.

Heero sighed and turned to look ahead at the pavement. They continued walking silently for a while.

"So was I right?" Duo asked after a few more steps.

Heero seemed annoyed. He didn't turn to face him as he asked: "About what?"

"About you going back home to L1."

"I had no home to return to," Heero stated quietly and Duo noted that his grip around Chowder's leash has tightened considerably.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he sighed. "But then, why the US? Why not Japan or sumthin'? You feel more of a Yankee than a Jap?"

"I feel like neither," Heero muttered with an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair to push his long bangs up as though uncomfortable. That was new. He had never seen Heero make a nervous gesture before.

"Fair 'nough," Duo mumbled, frowning deeply. Who _was_ this man he was speaking to?

The two were silent for a while before Duo decided to pick the conversation up again.

"So what's the deal with changing your name? There ain't no big difference between spelling it with an 'I' or an 'E', if ya ask me."

"I think there is," Heero replied quietly.

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

Heero focused his gaze ahead and refrained from giving a reply. Duo sighed and the two continued walking silently. Soon, the silence became awkward and Duo decided to break it with a smile.

"I saw your home office," he remarked casually, "You work from home?"

Heero continued watching Chowder, which was still walking ahead of the two. "Not bad for some_ dumb L2-trash_," Heero taunted dryly.

Duo was pleased with the friendly bickering. "Ouch," he let out with a wide smile; "I guess I had that one coming. This is just like old times, ain't it?"

Heero didn't grace him with an answer. In fact, Duo noted that the young man seemed even more uneasy. Instead of facing Duo, Heero turned his gaze away to look at Chowder, silently distancing himself from the friendly conversation. He watched his pet settle down by a tree in a patch of ground to do his business. The two young men stopped and waited for it to finish. Duo was anxious to get Heero to open up some more. The ice was finally breaking and it was important to hit the iron while it was hot. Fire and ice; the two idioms worked perfectly when referring to someone as ambiguous as Heero.

"So I gather that you're not the nine to five kinda guy, huh?" Duo resumed talking.

"I make my own hours," Heero replied quietly. His gaze was still fixed on Chowder.

"Lemme guess," Duo gave him a knowing smile, "You work with computers, right?"

"I'm a freelance system analyst. I consult various high-tech companies."

"Oh, like a debugger, right? You fix their shit 'n stuff."

"That's one way to phrase it."

"Bet it pays a _shitload_ of money, huh?"

"I've managed to build myself quite a reputation, so I can't complain."

"Shit, man. Your life's like a freaking jar of honey, ain't it? I gotta say I'm a bit jealous."

Heero didn't offer a verbal reply; he merely turned to stare at him. Something in his bottomless blue eyes suggested that he wanted to voice his objection to the statement, but refrained from doing so. Instead, he heaved a tired sigh and turned to look the other way at where Chowder was just rising back on all fours.

The dog continued walking onwards. Jadedly, Heero followed it. Duo got the feeling that Heero has had enough of both walking and talking. The atmosphere around the young man seemed to have become sullen, but Duo couldn't quite point his finger on what changed exactly. There was a solemn expression on the young man's face and his frame seemed to have shrunken a bit, appearing smaller, older, somehow. He continued to walk alongside Heero, wondering why the other ex-pilot looked so exhausted after a mere twenty minute walk.

"What I meant is that I wish I was good with that sorta stuff," he offered an explanation to his last comment regarding Heero's profession, fearing that he might have insulted the man.

"I mean, life ain't easy for no one, right? And I'm more of a grease-monkey myself. The only thing I'm good at is with my hands, and that ain't gonna get me far. Not like that computer shit. I just don't have the butt for it, yanno? I can't sit in front of a computer monitor all day, yanno what I mean?"

Heero nodded in understanding. "You should try applying for a more technical job, like an auto repair shop," he suggested quietly, "I'm sure you'd be able to put your skills into good use. Anyone would be pleased to hire someone with your experience and expertise."

"Work in a _garage?_" Duo took a moment to give it some actual thought. Any occupation he could get would be welcomed at this point. His parole officer would certainly be pleased.

"You did something similar once, haven't you?"

Duo frowned. "Uh, yeah. Did I tell you about that?" He couldn't recall telling Heero about the time he had worked in a scrapyard on L2, laying low while scavenging OZ mobile suit parts in deep space so he could trade them for parts he could use to fix his Gundam. He must have blabbered about it to Heero at some point later on, because there was no other way Heero could know about his return to L2 during the war.

"So you have the expertise," Heero surmised simply.

"Yeah, I guess that's one way to go," Duo mumbled, still unsure about the offer; "I mean, if anyone would be willing to hire an ex-c—Gundam pilot."

"It's a free country. You don't have to tell anyone who you were," Heero turned to him and stated; his gaze was fierce, like he already knew that Duo was hiding something from him. "People come here for a second chance."

"Well then, _God bless America_," Duo muttered sarcastically. "The land of _freaking_ _opportunity_!" he snorted. "Now I get it."

For a few good minutes, the two walked in silence, brooding. Heero gazed ahead thoughtfully as he walked, watching Chowder which was a few feet away from them.

"I know someone who might be interested in your skills," he said after a while, surprising Duo. "My mechanic runs a garage not far from here. I gave him a discount when I programmed a database for his business, so he owes me a favor. I could ask if he's hiring."

"Really? You'd do that? For me? Fuck, that's unreal."

"I can't make any promises that he'll hire you, but I'm willing to vouch for you if necessary."

Oh boy, would his parole officer _hit the freaking roof!_ Duo smiled widely, his cobalt eyes sparkling with gratitude and admiration towards his only friend. It has been a long time since he had _really_ smiled at anyone, but if anyone deserved earning an honest smile out of him, surely it was Heero.

"Yanno man, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Honestly, I dunno what to say."

"If it would help you get back on your feet, then the sooner the better," Heero muttered, looking away humbly. His sudden sheepishness earned him a goodhearted laugh from Duo.

"Oh, you're just making excuses for being nice!" he teased, "You're the best, you fucking know that? Thanks man," Duo added with a more serious expression, "I really appreciate it. You have no idea how much this means to me. Really." He felt like he was sucking up, but he simply couldn't help himself. He needed Heero to know how much he mattered to him.

Heero nodded in acknowledgment of the praise, turning to look the other way. Duo smiled widely at his friend; he had missed Heero's modesty, his noble grace. He was about to say something more when suddenly Heero stumbled forward after bumping into a small fire hydrant. He lost his balance and nearly fell, flinging one arm up in the air to stabilize himself.

"Christ! Heero! Watch it will ya!" Duo exclaimed in alarm. He turned to Heero, looking him up and down to make sure that he was alright. Heero hissed in pain, clutching his left leg (the scarred one with the limp) and rubbing it to ease the throbbing ache.

"_Da Hell_ didn't ya see _that_ one comin'?"

"I just didn't," Heero muttered and reached to rub the bridge of his nose, grimacing painfully.

"You okay man?" Duo asked and reached a hand towards the young man.

"Stop fretting," Heero demanded irritably and pushed Duo's hand away before he could even touch him. Concerned, Duo took a step back. Heero clearly didn't want to be touched.

"Maybe you shoulda taken your eyeglasses with ya," he suggested instead. It seemed that Heero really needed them to get around. He wondered why had chosen not to wear them this morning.

Heero turned his head left and right, looking around. "Where's Chowder?" he asked; there was a hint of worry in his voice. Only then did Duo realize that Heero was no longer holding Chowder's leash; he must have lost his grip on the leash when he had collided with the fire hydrant. The dog ran off and was nowhere to be seen.

"Shit," Duo cussed; "It ran away. The damn _mutt."_

Hearing that, Heero suddenly whirled around swiftly, his expression shocked as though something had just hit him, hard. He wobbled form side to side, about to fall. Duo hurried to grab him by his shoulders and stabilize him, just as his knees buckled and gave way.

"Shit, Heero, what da Hell!" he called anxiously. He guided the young man to a nearby city bench and helped him sit down. "Da fuck's wrong with you?"

"I... I got dizzy..." Heero mumbled feebly as he leaned forward, bowed his head and rubbed his face tiredly. Hunched forward, he covered his face with his hands and closed his eyes, groaning quietly. He was in pain. Duo stood next to him, watching anxiously.

"We oughta get back," he suggested quietly. "I think you should lie down or sumthin'."

"I have to find Chowder," Heero insisted and was already preparing to get up again.

"Forget it man," Duo insisted and pushed Heero back down. "You stay put. I'll go look for your damn dog."

Doubtful, Heero looked at Duo for a short moment, before he nodded his agreement. He then held his head again as though to stop it from falling and closed his eyes as another dizzy spell seemed to assault him. Duo noted that Heero had turned very pale. He was reluctant to leave him in his suddenly weakened state, but since he could see how alarmed Heero was by Chowder's disappearance, he hurried to go after the damn dog.

After running down the main street for a few good minutes, he spotted the dog in an alleyway behind a small butcher shop. Chowder was sniffing a large dumpster, its leash dragging behind it as it walked deeper into the alley.

"Stupid dog..." Duo muttered as he marched into the alley. He grabbed it by its leash, pulling the dog forcefully towards him. Chowder barked and pulled back, resisting Duo's attempt to drag it away.

Duo cussed loudly. He _hated_ dogs.

"Just come over here already!" he called angrily, pulling at the leash with all his might. Growling dangerously, Chowder tried to resist being dragged away; it gave Duo quite a struggle, thrashing about violently. By the time Duo managed to get the dog to cooperate, the sun had risen above the buildings and he was sweating badly, which only annoyed him even further. Finally, after a long struggle, Duo managed to get the dog to follow him. He made his way back to the bench where he had left Heero, a couple of blocks away.

As Duo approached the bench, Chowder began barking loudly. It ran towards its owner, using the entire length of the leash to run ahead of Duo. Tired, Duo lagged behind. Chowder was already by the bench, howling. At first Duo assumed that the damn _beast_ was simply pleased to see its owner again, but as he neared the bench, he was shocked to see the reason for Chowder's sudden eagerness and distress: Heero had collapsed on the bench, tilting sideways in unconsciousness.

"Shit!" Duo exclaimed, running towards the bench.

Dropping to his knees in front of it, he hurried to assess the man's condition: Heero was lying on his side, his legs dangling down the bench after he had fallen limply down in unconsciousness. Long bangs fell over his face, obscuring his closed eyes. One of his arms was sprawled before him and the other one dangled motionlessly to the pavement. Alarmed, Duo reached for Heero's lifeless hand and shook it gently.

"Heero, hey, Heero, wake up," he pleaded urgently, "C'mon man, snap out of it."

Chowder barked anxiously. The large dog was sitting by the bench, looking at its unconscious owner with shimmering brown eyes. As Duo shook Heero harder, the dog began wailing sadly.

"Hey, buddy, c'mon," Duo repeated over and over again as he rocked Heero, "Open your eyes, c'mon..."

Giving out a low moan, Heero stirred. Encouraged, Duo shook him a bit harder.

"That's it, c'mon, open your eyes. C'mon man, c'mon..."

Groggily, Heero opened his eyes, hardly managing to lift his eyelids to reveal a thin slit of blue. He gazed at Duo numbly from behind half-lidded eyes, before his eyelids fluttered shut again. He went limp, falling back into an unconscious state.

"No, no!" Duo shook Heero even harder. "C'mon, wake up! _Da fuck's_ wrong with you? Wake up! Shit!"

Duo's heart began beating painfully, throbbing with a sense of forbiddance. Something was _very_ wrong; Heero would not wake up. Helplessly, he looked left and right, searching for aid. It was still very early in the morning and the street was empty. Only a few cars drove past him before speeding away. He wondered if he should call an ambulance. What if someone thought he'd done this to Heero? No, he couldn't risk it.

"Shit," he cussed and turned back to Heero. "C'mon buddy, wake up..."

Chowder wept sadly, tucking its head between its paws. Letting out a sluggish moan, Heero opened his eyes again slowly, managing to lift his heavy eyelids only halfway.

"Heero?" Duo called softly and leaned closer to his friend; he was still kneeling in front of the bench. He looked closely into the man's barely open eyes.

"Heero, you with me?"

For a long while, the Prussian blue orbs didn't seem to register anything, until they suddenly blinked and lit up with recognition. Gasping, Heero opened his eyes fully and sat up, pushing off the bench suddenly.

"Chowder," he breathed his pet's name. He looked around, squinting as though it was hard to see; he was searching for his dog. Only when Heero turned his head to look down directly at the dog, did his features relax with relief. He reached out a hand towards the large Golden Retriever. Chowder stood up and approached its owner. Heero petted its head, finally calming when he ran his hand through the dog's rich fur.

Duo allowed him a moment to bond with the dog and stood up silently. He looked down at the man sitting on the bench, studying him carefully. He stared hard at Heero's hand as he petted the top of Chowder's head, and felt as though he was about to suffocate. Heero's hand seemed so frail and brittle; his long fingers were bony and pale; they trembled. Looking up at Heero's face, taking in his gaunt and unshaved features, the dark bags under his eyes and the grey-paleness of his skin, Duo could clearly see that Heero did not look well at all. His heart twitched with fear and agony. He couldn't lose Heero to some illness. Heero had to save him first. He simply had to!

"Heero, you alright?" he asked with concern, "You need me to call a doctor or sumthin'?"

Still petting Chowder, Heero shook his head. "No," he said quietly, "I'm fine."

"Heero, you _fainted_."

"I'm fine," Heero repeated firmly and turned to look up at Duo; his fierce blue eyes suggested that Duo shouldn't argue with him. "The heat got to me," he gave a poor excuse, which earned him a glare from Duo.

"Don't_ bullshit_ me, okay? The sun is barely up yet and it ain't_ that_ hot. Now what da Hell's wrong with you?"

"What's it to you?" Heero retorted, returning Duo's glare with a severe gaze of his own. He still hasn't risen from the bench, and from a low angle the glare seemed more childish than threatening.

"_Da fuck_ do you mean? I'm worried sick here!"

"I didn't ask for your concern," Heero grunted. Carefully, he stood up, leaning heavily on the bench for support. Once he steadied himself, he took Chowder's leash and prepared to head back the way they came.

"Quit pushing me away," Duo called after him, "We moved past that a long time ago, remember? You don't push away your only friend!"

"I don't owe you any explanations," Heero muttered as he walked away, limping slightly, "And you are not, by any means, my_ friend_."

"Say _what!_" Duo let out, stunned at Heero's blunt statement. A few moments ago they were talking like best buds and now he was saying that they weren't friends?

"So what are we – exactly?" he called after Heero and hurried to catch up with him. "What _do_ you call the guy who stuck with you through all sorta _shit?_"

Heero didn't offer an answer; he simply continued walking away in silence. But Duo wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

"If we ain't friends, then why didja agree to help me? Why didja say you'll help me find a job? Why didja lemme into your _home_, huh? Why? Are ya gonna take it back now? Are ya gonna kick me out?"

Heero sighed wearily. "I'm not going to do that Duo;" he muttered; "I've already given you my word that you may stay for a week."

"And now you're regretting it?"

Heero stared at him quietly. After a lengthy pause, he sighed. "You may stay, but that doesn't mean I consider you my friend."

"Da fuck not?"

Heero turned to pin Duo down with a harsh gaze. "Because you can never be a friend to me, Duo."

Slack-jawed, Duo stared at Heero. He was speechless. The short but resentful accusation left him feeling completely numb. He simply didn't know how to react.

Heero resumed walking onwards. Dazedly, Duo followed, keeping one step behind Heero. He couldn't think of anything to say and Heero refused to even look at him. The two young men walked in silence until they reached Heero's apartment building. Duo felt too guilty— no, fuck that, he was furious by the accusation! – to follow Heero inside. He stopped at the building's entrance.

The young man continued walking a few more steps ahead before realizing Duo had stopped. He turned to face him, looking at him impatiently.

"Are you coming in?" he asked in a calm but stern voice.

Duo couldn't even bring himself to look into Heero's eyes. He stared at the floor.

"I think I could use a bit more fresh air," he mumbled an excuse.

"I'm not kicking you out," Heero grunted irately; "My offer still stands."

"I know," Duo sighed; "I just, uh... need a minute, if that's okay."

"Suit yourself," Heero muttered and limped into the lobby, heading for the elevator. Chowder followed him eagerly, turning its head around to look at Duo with somewhat pretentious eyes, as if taunting him somehow.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Duo glared menacingly at the dog, cussing it for staying next to Heero while he remained on the street like some... well, like a damn stranded mutt!

He stood still for a moment more, debating whether or not he had it in him to go after Heero nevertheless. He was dying for a smoke, but he couldn't bear being next to Heero at the moment; he was too miserable, too proud and too stubborn to step into Heero's apartment just to fetch his smokes.

Sighing resignedly, Duo shoved his hands into his pockets and finally turned away from the building. He headed down the street, staring broodingly at the pavement as he walked.

Smokes or no smokes, the truth was that he didn't want to follow Heero because the man's words _hurt_. He had just been accused of never being able to be a friend to Heero. The harsh words flooded him with a sense of terrible guilt and he didn't even know why. He was aware of the fact that walking out at the end of the war was the wrong and inconsiderate thing to do, but concluding that he was some sort of monster incapable of offering friendship altogether – that was harsh!

Yesterday, when he came to meet Heero, he had been expecting an old grudge, but he hadn't expected the bitterness and resentment he had just encountered. He supposed that Heero's feelings of betrayal ran much deeper than his mere offense at being left behind; otherwise, he wouldn't have made such an extensive and far-reaching accusation, right?

But what was it then? What was Heero resenting so damn much? What had he done so wrong to deserve those harsh words? What had he done to make Heero think that he was some sort of selfish bastard with no regard to anyone but himself? It certainly hadn't been the impression he had been trying to give Heero during the war. He would have liked to think that he acted like a pretty decent guy back then; probably the nicest had ever been to anyone. He didn't deserve such an accusation. Why in God's name would Heero say such a thing!

**To be continued… soon.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I know that this story is more slow-paced than my previous work, but I promise you that the plot gets more intense as it simmers to a boil. I never go easy on my two favorite fictional characters...

You can rest assured that Duo's OOC behavior is deliberate and is basically the heart of this story. I know it's hard to like him right now, but bear with me here, I promise all will be revealed.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far.

Thank you,

Elle


	5. Chapter 03: Squirt

**Author's Note:**

Is Duo utterly insane? Hell yes! Am I going to butcher his character completely? Fuck no. Rest assured that both you, as a reader, and Heero and Duo, as the lead characters, are in good hands. Without giving away any spoilers, I assure you that Duo won't stay this way forever. Please give this story a chance...

Elle

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><p><strong>One Week <strong>

**Part 5/20**

**Chapter 03: Squirt**

Duo roamed the streets for over an hour, walking around aimlessly. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings as he circled the same group of blocks over and over again. He was famished and dying for a smoke.

As he walked past the corner of one block he saw a young African-American woman smoking outside a small shop. She was a voluptuously heavy and well-groomed woman. He somehow managed to offer a flirtatious smile and charm two cigarettes out of her. _'One for the road'_, she had said with a sweet smile and handed him a second cigarette. She lit the first smoke for him, smiling seductively and he would have liked nothing more than to escort her to the nearest alley and fuck her huge bosoms silly. Instead, he just faked a smile, thanking her before he walked away, as horny as a three balled tomcat.

The cigarette wasn't of his favorite brand, but smoking eased both his hunger and his mind. He wandered aimlessly, circling Heero's block, still apprehensive of going back to the apartment. He simply didn't know what to say or do once he got there. The friendship he had been so certain of was now threatened; it felt as though it was standing a one-week trial.

Reflecting on his short shared past with Heero, Duo found that he could hardly recall the reason they became friends in the first place. The whole concept of their friendship suddenly felt alien to him, farfetched, as though it never happened. Was it all in his head?

He struggled to recall what Heero and he had done to pass their free time and scarce mundane moments together, but failed to remember anything substantial. After all, it's been almost twelve years since they had first met. All he could recall was that Heero mostly kept to himself and that he used to follow him around, babbling about stuff and hoping Heero might be listening. Thinking back, Duo sadly recalled that between all the preparations, the fighting and Gundam repair/maintenance, they used most of their spare time to sleep. The only he had time spent "hanging out" with Heero without doing anything mission related was when they both happened to be sleeping in the same room together, usually a dormitory of some private boarding school they had infiltrated for cover. But that was just a necessary evil; Heero probably preferred to lower his guard down next to a fellow pilot rather than to sleep in the company of strangers.

Frustrated, Duo kicked an empty soda can lying on the pavement. He took a long drag on his smoke and tried to calm the swirling storm inside his head. He was prone to losing his sense to fury. If there was one thing his priest insisted to get through to him during his time in prison – it was to keep his anger from getting the better of him. His Sexual Rage Disorder was a dangerous trait. Thoughts bordering on the sinister or even insane tended to infect his mind when his reason lost to anger.

The damn prison shrink, who had boldly labeled him as a severe case of Borderline Personality Disorder and a damned Sex Addict, prescribed him medication to prevent his violent episodes. However, he'd be damned if he ever used drugs again. He wanted his mind to be his and his alone. As screwed-up as may be, Duo had no desire to alter it in any way; never again. Enough. Fuck the meds.

So instead he took a deep breath, inhaled more smoke and repeated the exercise until his heartbeat calmed and his rage somewhat subsided. The fog obscuring his rationality gradually diminished to its usual murky state. There was enough haze to still shroud his reasonable mind, but not enough to completely conceal it. Once his mind was cleared of angry and hateful thoughts, his reason re-emerged from within the fog. Sensible and fairly relaxed, Duo took a long drag on his rapidly shortening cigarette and resumed his musings.

There simply had to be _something_ in his and Heero's shared history that will prove to Heero that he shouldn't dismiss their friendship so easily!

He frowned, straining as he grasped at straws. Thinking back, he recalled that his first encounter with Heero was rough and almost deadly. They definitely started off on the wrong foot, but he would have liked to believe that that shaky road had eased into a smoother sailing later on. He recalled that Heero had begun to somehow tolerate his presence, silently and gradually accepting his company.

_Think about it man, I was the first outta the guys to try to get close... it was like taming a freaking stallion. Yeah, I mean, if it weren't for me – the others wouldn't even had a chance to get past his defenses. And NO ONE got as close as I have—had—am! I mean, shit, that makes me his best bud, right? I was his first! Heh. Shit. I must be as horny as a motherfucker to be thinking in those terms..._

Sly erotic thoughts filled his mind with nasty images of blood, jealous lust and sex. He imagined Heero's sexual innocence as he pictured him as a teenage boy, his lithe and powerful body quivering with unfathomable desire as he lost his sexual innocence in a wild sexual fantasy of a much older Duo. His mind wandered off and a nasty smirk twisted his face, staining his cobalt eyes with a dangerous kind of darkness. He licked his lips hungrily as the devouring rage which had burnt acidly through his veins but moments ago, formed into something much darker, cynical and perilously possessive. Such fantasies were out of his control. They were extremely dangerous and jeopardized his sanity, mostly because he enjoyed them more than he should. Nevertheless, he never entertained sadistically erotic thoughts of Heero before, and certainly not of the body of a boy he now knew as a man. He wasn't some pedophile freak! He was just horny, that's all.

And yet, recalling how that desolate clueless boy whose kindhearted nature constantly struggled to surface above his iron mask, had gradually learned to trust him, piqued his desire to an almost intolerable level. Mental images of the boy he had known over a decade ago, nude and stripped down to his very soul while his body was being ravaged, filled Duo's mind and excited him to the point of breathlessness. He could almost _taste_ the sweat on that boy's skin, smooth and salty on his tongue. He could almost _hear_ his hoarse desperate panting, shallow and heavy with need. He could almost _feel_ the boy's hot flesh quiver beneath and around him, muscles stretching painfully to accompany his throbbing manhood. Lastly, Duo could almost certainly _see_ the hurt in those bottomless Prussian blue eyes as they closed gently, sadly, succumbing to the complete loss of innocence. The torn gaze only served to excite Duo further.

The dark fantasy was delicious and frightening at the same time. Aroused, Duo took a quivering breath, shuddering with unrequited lust. He felt himself harden and actually had to stop walking, close his eyes and think about brick walls, counting brick by brick, before he could calm down, or else his fantasy would take him to places he didn't really wish to venture to at the moment.

He took a shaky drag on his smoke, troubled. He wondered why his mind has drifted to such dark regions. He had been through more than enough therapy in prison to be rid of such thoughts, or at the very least ignore them. Sure, he was horny, but that was no excuse... was it?

He could forgive himself for gawking at Heero the way he had yesterday. He could forgive himself for jerking off in the shower soon afterwards, but he could not forgive himself for the images that just flashed through his mind. It was wrong; doing such things to Heero – no, to_ anyone!_ – would be terribly _wrong_. He had learned his lesson with Ali.

Angry with himself, Duo stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby lamppost. The smoky stub fell to the pavement and he crushed it with his heavy black boot. Sighing, he walked onwards and fished the second cigarette the lady had given him out of his shorts' pocket. Turning around the corner of Heero's block, he saw an old man smoking and asked him for a light. Troubled, he resumed his pointless circling of Heero's block while smoking a second cigarette.

Over the past year, during which he had waited to finally see Heero again, Duo never dared thinking or dreaming about him in that way. He kept Heero safe in the shelter of what was left of his sensible mind, treasuring him more than anything or anyone; protecting him from the darker regions of his crumbling sanity, from the urges and desires that sent him to prison in the first place. He had sworn to put an end to it after Ali's death and he needed pure thoughts of Heero to keep him sane; he needed their friendship to support him during moments when judgment and rationality escaped him beyond reach. Now that he was out of prison, he needed Heero to continue making sure that he'd stay out of trouble. He could not allow the morbid darkness to seep into the safe region of his mind, where he kept his friendship with Heero hidden from perverse psychosis.

_'You can never be a friend to me'_, Duo sorrowfully recalled Heero's accusation and the words suddenly rang painfully true. In the end, he was too insane to truly be a friend to anyone, let alone Heero. When it came down to it, Duo could not deny that during the past year, his friendship with Heero did not exist outside the safety of his own deluded mind. Perhaps it never truly existed at all.

Could it be that he had mistaken being Heero's first and _only_ friend, with being his one and only _true_ friend? It was a distinction Heero has probably learned to make over the past decade. No doubt he had lost his virginal naivety a long time ago. The past ten years have undoubtedly dealt him a fair share of lessons to learn. Perhaps he had wised up long before Duo had. But there was no denying that he was still Heero's _first!_ He will always have that. He will always have that first claim over Heero.

Why, a dozen years ago, Heero had been a virgin in almost every aspect. Duo knew for certain that he was the first person Heero allowed to come close. He was the first person Heero had ever reached a hand to when in need for assistance. How else would he have escaped from the Alliance Military Hospital in one piece? Even back then, Duo was smart enough to realize that jumping out the window of that hospital building along with him had been a literal leap of faith for Heero. It was probably the first time Heero allowed himself to put his faith in anyone. It was a beginning of a (he would have liked to say _beautiful_) friendship.

But that wasn't when he had first made his claim over Heero. His first claim was made by gunshot, by the two bullets he had fired at Heero – marking his body forever. Heero responded best to violence; he had to shatter his way into the boy's iron-clad heart before trust could be formed. Their friendship was forged with and through fire, beginning with those two bullets.

Whether it was during their time undercover in various boarding schools or during missions, Heero tolerated his company; at times, he even seemed at ease around him. Every experience they shared back then had been a first for Heero. He was there when Heero's virginal tongue first tasted ice cream and he was the first to offer Heero's virginal body a friendly touch. He was there when Heero first played team sports and was praised freely by their peers and he was the first to see the sheepish and humble shine in Heero's eyes as the boy turned away uncomfortably. He was there when Heero had first fallen ill with Earth's Influenza and he was the first Heero had solely depended on while being incapacitated by disease. On the battlefield, he was the first whose skills Heero had acknowledged and he was the first Heero had chosen to cooperate with. He was the first Heero had ever disobeyed an order for and he was the first Heero had fought for as a person rather than a cause. Every small step Heero took towards his humanity was with him or for him. He had taken a boy who had known nothing beyond his training as a terrorist and brought him to life. Cocky, sure, but true.

An image flashed in his mind, one he often reflected on when he thought of Heero: the moment he had confessed that he considered him a friend, way back when he had rescued him from the C-102 OZ base. The look in Heero's eyes after he had acknowledged him as a friend was an image that stuck with Duo through the years. The torn look in his eyes, the clear need to convey things he could not possibly bring himself to say, was something Duo could never forget. In his eyes, that moment represented who Heero was: an aloof and desolate person dying to reach out; a fierce and powerful soldier battling with his humanity; a presence both yielding yet solid, cold and yet burning intensely at the same time. Heero always seemed to be struggling between two extreme opposites. He would take one step towards his humanity, then two steps back, recoiling back anxiously.

The biggest leap backwards was when the war ended, Duo suddenly recalled. All of the pilots landed on the MO2 resource satellite at the end of the final battle. Once recuperated, Heero left the satellite and vanished without saying a word. It was as though the very prospect of a life without fighting chased him away. Their friendship wasn't enough for him. Then again, Duo supposed not much could be said for his own human courtesy. After Heero disappeared that night, Duo never bothered searching for him. He was hardly affected by the loss of the person he had considered as his best friend. After the Eve War he had travelled here and there, working as a delivery man just so he'll have something to do with his time and so that he never had to stay at the same place for too long. On one of his delivery jobs to L4 he decided to drop by Quatre's place and that was when Heero suddenly contacted him out of the blue and just in the nick of time, giving him crucial information that had saved Quatre from being killed in an assassination attempt. If Heero hadn't called and asked for his and the other pilots' aid to stop terrorists from getting their hands on the Gundams, Duo was sure that they never would have reunited.

When that ordeal was resolved Heero disappeared again. He only seemed to resurface if war became imminent. Duo didn't even think trying to find him again, until he was asked by Quatre to locate Heero and tell him of their plan to send the Gundams into the sun and dispose of them once and for all. He managed to track Heero down in some L1 high-school. Apparently, he had been posing as a student again. Their encounter had been brief: Heero gave him Wing-ZERO's coordinates and that was it. He vanished from L1 and only resurfaced again when the Mariemaia Uprising broke out. That was the last he had seen of Heero. The last time they were in the same room together, Heero punched him hard in the gut and that was goodbye: Heero ran off to save the world again and that was it. He never saw him again until yesterday.

Duo simply moved on with his life and soon became too absorbed in alcohol and drugs to actually give a fuck about anything. Life after the war lacked the thrill of battle and the rush of danger; the drugs had been a good substitute. They eased his mind when nightmares came and provided the rush when numbness took over. The only price he had to pay was his body and soul, not something he really cared about. And that was that; anything else became obsolete, including Heero.

A dark forbidding feeling rose deep inside of him, twisting his gut painfully. A small voice, remnants of crumbling reason, whispered that there lay the root of the problem: even though he was the first to teach Heero friendship, he was also the first to let him down.

Denial kicked in and quickly formed into a flaming ball of anger, coursing through his body like a volcanic stream of boiling magma. Loathing burnt in his blood, twisting his logic so that the world would make sense again. It was easier to channel the guilt outwards rather than to blame himself; it kept him going. He had no doubt that Heero had wrongfully accused him of betrayal. It was Heero's fault! He was the one who split! He was the one to break things off at MO2!

It didn't matter anymore, though. All he could do now was try make things right from here on. His very existence depended on Heero. He had no other plans, no other aspirations but to be with Heero. Only Heero could save him from himself and that was why he refused to be cast away by false accusations of his so-called faulty past.

What's done is done; he couldn't change that or how Heero interpreted what transpired between them. Some part of him, the diminishing rational one, knew that he was the one at fault. There was something dark, something hidden, something very _painful_ lurking just beneath the surface of his consciousness that _knew_ just how much wrong he had done to Heero. That dim knowledge was buried under thick and guarded layers of ignorance and denial. It was completely out of reach for his conscious mind. It was there, but completely forgotten. All Duo was willing to accept was that whatever he had felt for Heero back then – whether he had truly cared or not – that didn't matter anymore. Right now, he was certain that he cared for Heero. The feeling _had_ to be genuine, because it was the only feeling he was capable of having without being strung out of his mind. He had developed a true affection towards Heero, a dependence he could not live without.

When it came down to it, Duo knew that Heero had been there for him during the war. Heero never abandoned him then, and he didn't turn his back to him yesterday when he had shown up on his doorstep after ten years. That _must_ mean that there was still hope for their friendship. There had to be, because he wouldn't have it any other way. He needed Heero in order to live; he needed him in order to keep sane.

Determined, Duo halted, facing the narrow side street leading to Heero's apartment building. He looked at it lengthily; a shadowy and firm look in his cobalt eyes.

Much was needed to be said and done. A friendship had to be both re-acknowledge and restored. He was not going to give up his claim on Heero. He was Heero's first, and if needed, he was going to be Heero's last. He would not have it any other way. By the end of this one week, Heero was going to be his friend – whether he wanted to or not.

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><p>By the time Duo made it back to Heero's place, it was about six thirty a.m. The main road was buzzing with morning traffic and the August morning-sun was beating down on his head as though it was already high-noon.<p>

The elevator chimed when it reached the third floor. Duo managed one last look at his own disheveled image reflecting on the metallic doors. He was still dressed in baggy black shorts, a black tank-top and heavy black boots; his arm-length tattoo and large silver cross were accented by the black attire.

_I look like a freakin' punk,_ he realized with dismay and ran a hand to push his medium-choppy hair back, attempting to give himself a somewhat decent appearance. It was no wonder Heero won't take him seriously; he looked like some no-good _hick_.

Once he stepped out of the elevator, Duo spotted a woman standing in front of Heero's open door, speaking with the young man. Scowling deeply, he halted quickly, watching the couple.

The woman was a dark-skinned brunette, her hair long and wavy, gathered into a bountiful ponytail full of curly brown hair. He couldn't tell for certain from a distance, but he got the impression that she was older than Heero and he by half a decade at least, and most likely of Latin origin. The older woman was dressed in a blue hotel-maid uniform and white canvas shoes. Her plain maid dress clung to her curvaceous figure, stretching over her lush bosoms and voluptuous curvy behind. She was a full-figured woman; not obese, but filled in all the right places, like a Renaissance work of art. He was getting horny again. He couldn't take his eyes off of her _bootylicious_ behind. He had to force himself to look away before his manhood would give the lady a much deserved standing-ovation.

Heero was standing at the doorway, dressed casually in light-blue jeans and a simple gray T-shirt. He had his thinly framed black eyeglasses back on, looking like a dork again. He nodded intently at what the woman was saying.

Duo leaned against the wall, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. Silently, he watched the couple continue their conversation.

The woman handed Heero a small container.

"I made some stew for lunch," Duo heard her say; her voice carried a heavy Spanish accent. "Cook some rice to go alongside it – and _no_ snacks between meals."

Duo scowled at the woman, displeased by what he heard. _Da fuck this bitch is bossing him around? God, please don't tell me that she's Heero's—_ Duo didn't even want to finish that train of thought; it didn't go well with his growing obsession over Heero and it most certainly didn't go well with his plan to talk Heero back into their friendship. He couldn't afford to have _any _interference!

"Sure," Heero confirmed curtly as he accepted the box. He pushed his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose, as though uncomfortable. The Latin woman nodded hurriedly, acknowledging his thanks.

"Adriel still hasn't touched his calculus assignments for the summer," she said with dismay, "he has to turn them in at the beginning of the school year. Make sure he completes them," she ordered.

"I will," Heero promised, nodding curtly.

Duo rolled his eyes. Heero was now taking orders from a damn _maid?_ He simply couldn't live without having someone boss him around now could he?

"Good," she acknowledged brusquely. "I'll pick him up at around five thirty," she added as she pulled her purse up her slim shoulder, indicating her wish to leave. "Keep him out of trouble."

"You have nothing to worry about, Marissa."

"Easy for you to say," the woman muttered bitterly. "You're too lenient and I'm the one paying for it," she grumbled tiredly.

"You're free to make other arrangements if you're displeased with me," he replied calmly. "If it's about the money—"

"Don't even go there, Hiro," the woman, Marissa, snapped, sending Heero a sharp glare. Heero returned her fierce look evenly. Eventually the woman sighed and looked down at her wrist watch.

"I should get going," she leaned forward to peek into the apartment. "Adriel!" she called, "Serun buen chico! No le da ningún problema!"

"Sí mamá!" a child's voice called from within Heero's apartment and Duo's heart nearly jumped to his throat. Even though it should have been obvious, he had just realized what the couple's conversation was all about: there was a_ damn brat _in Heero's apartment!

"Shit," he whispered under his breath. _Seriously, Heero? You're babysitting some bitch's kid? What da fuck man!_

His plan to quickly reconcile with Heero has just flown out the window and crashed face-down into the street, splattering all over the pavement in a bloody mess. Duo crossed his arms angrily over his chest and glared at the maid at Heero's doorstep.

With a final polite nod for goodbye, the woman hurried to leave for work. She rushed towards the elevator, walking past Duo and leaving a sweet trail of perfume in her wake. As she walked past him, their eyes met; her dark, almond-shaped eyes scrutinized him like he was some scumbag, a damn _punk_ hanging around the building.

With his hands still folded firmly over his chest, Duo closed his fists tightly. Glowering angrily, he shifted his dark gaze to follow the woman. In response, Marissa hurried towards the elevator, still giving him an uneasy look until the doors closed behind her.

Duo snorted in disgust and turned the other way. His gaze locked on Heero, who was still standing at the doorway, looking at him silently. Duo remained rooted to his spot and simply stared back. He didn't like the way Heero looked with his eyeglasses on. He didn't like this version of him, all mature and so God damn _domesticated_. There was so much anger still boiling in his blood right now, so much he wanted to say and do, but he was rendered incompetent by the knowledge that there was a damn _kid_ in Heero's apartment – an invader; perhaps even Heero's savior for the time being.

_Let him keep his fucking grudge for now,_ Duo mused wrathfully; _you just wait 'till that damn squirt leaves. Then I'll give you a piece of my mind, ya jerk. You're gonna realize why you let me into your home. I ain't no charity case of yours. You let me in cuz you KNOW we're friends._

All he had to do was make Heero admit to it out loud; by any means necessary.

"Are you ready to come in?" Heero's tone was quiet; Duo would have liked to believe that Heero was aware that he was treading on thin ice. He sounded very calm; there wasn't a hint of impatience or annoyance in his voice, unlike when he had irritably informed Duo that he did not consider them to be friends.

Duo took a deep breath, struggling to regain a cool composure and contain his irrational fury. As angry as he was with Heero, he knew better than to lash at him and relieve his rage all at once. That was how people ended up hurt, and injuring Heero wouldn't benefit him in any way; that much he knew.

"Yeah," he muttered and walked the rest of the distance to Heero's apartment. He stopped at the doorway, standing directly in front of the other man and looking him straight in the eye. There wasn't much of a height difference between them, but Heero was still about half an inch shorter; inferior. He was no longer the deadly individual Duo had known him to be. His remarkable strength seemed to have depleted over the past decade. The look in his eyes was still intense though; still powerful, calculated, defiant, daring— still Heero's, if not for the eyeglasses that is. The seeing-aid took something away from the intensity of Heero's gaze, from the enchanting and striking beauty of his eyes. They made him look like someone else; a stranger, someone Duo didn't know; someone he had no intention of knowing. He was only interested in _Heero_, not _Hiro,_ after all.

Looking at the man, Duo struggled to find a hint of his old buddy, searching for him hidden somewhere in the man's familiar yet foreign expression. He noted that Heero had showered and shaved. His hair was still damp and he smelled of a pleasant aftershave. He looked much better than he had when he had fainted on the bench; he seemed revitalized.

Heero readjusted his black eyeglasses and returned Duo's gaze evenly, calmly waiting for Duo to say whatever was on his mind. And at that particular moment, there was only one thing Duo needed to make sure:

"Heero, that woman, is she—"

"My next-door neighbor," Heero cut in, a frown on his face, "Are you going to come in or not?"

Duo nodded silently, although he was not relieved just yet. He had to make certain that the damn woman will not become an obstacle in his path; he mustn't let her get in the way.

Heero stepped aside and allowed Duo to enter the apartment before closing the door. A little boy, about six or seven years old, was sitting on one of the tall bar chairs by the kitchen bar, swinging his small legs back and forth and sipping a glass of milk. Three plates were arranged on the bar top, along with a breadbasket full of fresh toast and a butter plate. The scent of home cooking was in the air, scrambled eggs by the smell of it. Chowder was sitting at the kitchen's entrance, wagging its tail lazily against the hardwood floor.

As Duo entered the apartment, the child turned around to look at the new arrival. He was a small dark-skinned boy with lengthy mushroom-cut ebony-black hair reaching down to his earlobes. His features were quite exotic, much like his mother's. He stared at Duo with a pair of expressive hazel eyes glancing above the rim of a glass of milk he was holding. The child was dressed simply and colorfully, his small legs clad in a pair of worn-out athletic shoes which looked like they had seen more than their fair share of fooling around outdoors.

Duo didn't know why, but his first reaction to seeing the boy's little face was that he wanted to punch him straight in the nose. His anger threatened to resurface with a vengeance and he had to take deep long breaths in order to contain it.

"Adriel," Heero called as he walked into the kitchen, limping lightly as he headed for the stove. "This is Duo. He's from out of town."

"Hey," Duo raised his hand and greeted the boy rather irritably.

The boy put his glass of milk down, exposing a white milk-moustache. "Hi," he returned the greeting half-heartedly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the white liquid over his dark skin. His voice was chirpy and childish. The boy returned to face the table and sipped his milk. His little legs ceased swinging back and forth.

Holding a frying-pan full of scrambled eggs, Heero turned away from the stove. "Are you hungry?" he asked, looking at Duo as he approached the kitchen bar. He served a portion of scrambled eggs into each of the three plates.

"Uh, yeah, starving," Duo muttered quietly. He walked towards the kitchen bar and took a seat on a chair next to the boy. Suddenly, he felt very _large_ and very _old_, which made him even more uncomfortable and irritable.

"So, _squirt_," he turned to the dark haired boy, trying to sound like a friendly average Joe even though he still felt like punching the kid for invading his and Heero's privacy. "You a buddy of Heero's?"

The little boy shrugged and kept his head bowed as he pushed his food around with a fork. "We watch soccer together," his little childish voice mumbled the strange explanation. Unlike his mother, the child did not have a heavy Spanish accent; his accent was an American one.

"Uh huh," Duo let out in response to the bizarre answer. "And that makes you _friends?_" he stretched the last word for a sarcastic affect which the boy failed to pick up on.

"I guess," the child shrugged casually, "We play videogames too."

"I've been looking after Adriel during the summer vacation while his mother is at work," Heero explained as he served Duo a steaming cup of coffee and took a seat on the chair opposite of the two.

"Hiro watches over me after school too," the boy was kind enough to supply; "but it's more fun during the summer, except for homework..." he added with a burdened sigh.

Duo rolled his eyes as he turned to Heero. "So basically, you're a _baby_sitter," he emphasized just to tease the other man.

"Hey!" the little boy exclaimed, displeased as he picked up on the emphasis Duo had put on the word _'baby'_.

"I'm almost _seven!_"

"I suppose I am," Heero muttered, eyeing him in annoyance and ignoring the child's exclamation.

"And here I thought you were making 'nough doe with that computer shit."

Heero chose not to answer, but continued to glare fiercely at Duo. He ignored the man's cold gaze and turned to the kid again. "So, squirt, which football team's your favorite?"

The boy finally looked up at Duo; his exotic hazel eyes glimmered intensely. "Not football! I like _soccer!"_ he corrected in a childish whine. "And Club América is the best!" he declared with a proud grin. There was a jubilant glint in the boy's eyes which made Duo want to smack the happy expression off his cheeky little face. Something about the child made Duo incredibly angry in a most irrational way.

"Last year Hiro took me to see 'em play against Inter Milan! We drove all the way to _Jersey!_"

"_Oh w-o-w,_" Duo faked a cheerful reply, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yanno, people don't usually brag 'bout goin' to Jersey. Good for you, squirt."

The boy didn't pick up on Duo's cynicism and offered a big smile in return, exposing all of his missing milk-teeth. Duo grinned nastily as he mused that the kid looked like a damn hobo.

"Yeah, it was great! Rodriguez Chávez is _AWSOME!_ He's the _BEST_ soccer player in the world, yanno! Mamá comes from the same place he does. Did you see him play? He was _so cool!_"

"Right," Duo muttered, indifferent to the boy's long and overly-excited stream of words. Ignoring the kid, he turned to look at Heero, raising a skeptic eyebrow. "I didn't know you were into that sorta shi—" he was about to catch himself from swearing next the boy again, but then decided against it. Smirking, he finished his sentence with a strong emphasis on the word "_shit._"

Heero's gaze turned a couple of degrees colder and he straightened in his chair, taking a more defensive pose. Duo had to keep himself from smirking; the gesture brought on a welcomed sense of nostalgia.

"Since when do _you_ like sports?"

"Since it's none of your damn business," Heero muttered acerbically; his tone was low and dripping with resentment. He was obviously irritated by Duo's insolent behavior, which raised a pleasant tingly feeling under Duo's skin.

"Yeah," Adriel cut in with his annoying little chirping voice, "We're gonna see 'em play in Estadio Azteca one day, right? That's their home stadium – it's _HUGE!_"

Duo felt like rolling his eyes. _God, I hate kids,_ he grunted to himself, _can't believe I used to fucking be one._ With each passing minute, he liked the boy less and less.

"We're gonna see 'em play there, right?" Adriel turned to Heero with a pair of hopeful hazel eyes. "I bet we can see Chávez play for Mexico in the next World Cup. It's gonna be in Mexico – right? We can go see him play again!"

"We'll just have to wait and see if Mexico plays next year," Heero replied quietly and Duo could have sworn that he saw the man's lips curl up with a hidden smile.

Adriel rolled his eyes. "Don't be _stupid_, Hiro, they always do," he muttered and then his eyes suddenly lit up again. "Hey! Maybe we can go see Club América just play a league game in Estadio Azteca? Uncle Pedro goes there EVERY year. We can go with him!"

"Why won't you simply go with your uncle?" Heero suggested.

"Nah, I'll go with you," the child replied casually, shrugging nonchalantly.

Duo could have sworn that he saw Heero fight off a smile. He scowled deeply, watching Heero intently. He hated the way the man was responding to the damn squirt.

"Then perhaps one day," Heero said quietly, "when you're older," he promised and cast his gaze down. At first Duo figured it was because Heero was reluctant to let him see that he was close to the damn brat, but then he realized that Heero was casting his gaze down because he was _lying_. Duo's scowl deepened. He was not blind; he could clearly see the rare affectionate shine in Heero's blue eyes, so why was he lying to the boy about taking him to the game?

"Gee," Duo turned to the boy with a false smile, faking a cheerful tone. "Sounds like you two are _best buds_, huh?" he droned sarcastically.

"I guess," the boy mumbled awkwardly, looking uncertainly at the man at the other side of the table. Heero returned the boy's gaze with a steady gaze of his own, as though to assure him that they were indeed friends.

Duo felt like he was two seconds away from simply _exploding_.

"So soccer, huh?" he muttered, smirking at Heero; "I wonder what else I dunno about you."

"Hiro hates sushi!" Adriel was more than happy to supply him with the information.

"No shit!" Duo exclaimed derisively, still sneering at Heero. "Good thing the squirt wasn't hangin' round ya ten years ago, huh Heero? You woulda shot him straight in da freakin' face for that kinda shit. Blown his fuckin' brains straight out! _BAM!_" he finished with a hand pointed like a gun firing at the child's small head.

"Duo," Heero grinded out a warning and the little boy's face paled at the colorful imagery. His dark eyes widened in fright and he turned to Heero, clearly upset.

"You woulda_ shot_ me?" he asked in awe. Duo felt like grinning and had to keep himself from snickering out loud.

Heero's face hardened into a glare. He stared Duo down angrily before turning to face the little boy and softening his expression. "Of course not," he said, keeping calm despite the obvious anger in his eyes. "Duo is just trying to scare you. He thinks he is being funny but I suggest that he keeps his mouth shut from now on," he added a warning, glaring at Duo again.

Duo ignored the glare and turned to the boy, smirking darkly. "Ya see squirt, that's exactly what he woulda told ya back then. _Shuddup _was about all you could get outta him!"

"But I only said that he doesn't like sushi, everyone knows that," the boy mumbled, clearly confused by the strange turn the conversation has taken.

"Yeah, well, and what if some damn Ozzie woulda shoved a Maki Roll down Heero's throat? Then you woulda felt kinda stupid for blurrtin' that shit out."

"Stop being an ass Duo," Heero grunted, clearly annoyed if he had resorted to name calling; a rare thing indeed if Duo recalled correctly. "Leave the boy alone."

However, little Adriel seemed fascinated by the strange things being said to him. He shifted his gaze from Duo to Heero, a curios look in his striking hazel eyes.

"What's an Ozzie?" he asked Heero.

"Just someone who _really_ wanted Heero to choke on some bad sushi," Duo answered smoothly, sneering in dark cynical amusement.

Heero shook his head, apparently not appreciating Duo's attitude. Ignoring him, he turned to Adriel.

"It's not important," he told the boy, "Just ignore whatever Duo says."

"Yeah, you're _really weird_," the boy agreed, nodding.

"That's what they keep tellin' me," Duo muttered bleakly and reached for the coffee Heero had served him earlier, hiding his face behind the mug as he sipped the drink. He didn't feel like looking at either Heero or the squirt anymore.

Ignoring Duo's sassy attitude, Heero turned to the boy again. "I have some work to complete today, but we have to get started on your homework. I promised your mother you'll get it done by the end of the day."

"_Oh, man!_" the boy whined; "Do I _have_ to?"

"Yes, you do," Heero replied evenly and the child heaved a dramatic little sigh.

"But I still have a few more days left before school!"

"A good time as any to stop procrastinating," Heero replied calmly and Adriel gave him this funny look, like he had just seen the man grow another head.

"Procasta-_what?_"

"Procrastination," Heero explained calmly: "replacing high-priority actions with tasks of lower priority."

"You mean like doing something _fun?_"

"Yes."

"But I _like_ having fun!"

"True, but one cannot always put off important tasks just to have fun."

"And that's the whole nine yards when it comes to Heero," Duo interjected slyly. Heero sent him a quick glare to shut him up.

Adriel also stared at Duo, confused, and then turned back to Heero. "What if I play just for a _little while_ and then we'll finish my homework?"

"This isn't open for negotiation," Heero informed him.

"Just _one_ game," the child insisted; "You can finish your work first, and then we'll do mine."

"Adriel," Heero warned; "you're negotiating."

"Yeah, cuz I'm _real good_ at it," the child chirped snootily.

An uncontrollable laugher burst out of Duo in a series of snorted chuckles. He hurried to stifle his laughter. He didn't want it to show that he was actually responding positively to the damn squirt. But he had to give him some credit; the kid was actually bargaining with the _Perfect Soldier_ – and it looked like he was winning no less. That deserved some credit; even if the boy probably didn't know any better.

"Fine," Heero gave in; "Just one videogame."

"_Alright!_" the child called in triumph. He jumped off the bar chair, leaving his unfinished breakfast behind and ran to the living room, where his colorful schoolbag was lying on the sofa. Duo watched the kid pull out a small videogame console and controllers before hooking them up to the large flat-screen TV. He turned back to Heero, smirking sarcastically.

"Fucking unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head; "I never woulda thought I'd see the day you cave in like some bitch. The brat played you like a fiddle!" he laughed.

Heero ignored the criticism and reached for his mug for a sip of coffee. They finished their breakfast silently. Once done, Heero got up and began clearing the dishes off the table. Duo shoved his empty plate towards Heero.

"So where's the father?" he asked casually.

"Deceased," Heero replied tersely as he turned to put the dishes in the sink. He grabbed a kitchen cloth to wipe the worktop clean. The man's restraint was something familiar to Duo; he enjoyed it, mainly because he recognized _his _Heero in it. He counted three beats before voicing his next nasty comment.

"Momma Maria looks pretty damn hot," he stated, sneering. "So tell the truth _soldier-boy_, you doin' her or what?"

"The name is _Marissa_," Heero corrected calmly despite Duo's impudent attitude; "and that's none of your damn business."

"Is that a yes? Kudos, Heero! That's one _fine_ piece of ass. I wouldn't mind having some of that booty myself, yanno what I'm sayin'?"

Heero's hand curled into a tight fist, balled around the kitchen cloth he was holding. He turned slowly to face Duo, glaring angrily. "Be quiet," he warned with a low voice.

"_What?_" Duo droned in a harmless tone, though his cobalt eyes shone darkly, spitefully. "You're a big boy, aren't you? We can talk about that sorta shit. Oh, hey! Maybe she's payin' you with sex? Is that it? You babysit her baby boy and she puts out? Does she let you bang her _lovely Latin ass?_ C'mon! You gotta tell me! Are we enjoying a little horizontal _Salsa dancing_ with our next door neighbor?"

An image flashed in his mind, taunting him with a dirty scene of wild sweaty sex. He saw Marissa in her blue maid dress, the unbuttoned top pulled down to her waist, leaving her smooth torso and huge bosoms exposed. She was bent over a motel bathroom sink. Heero stood behind her, fucking her up the ass, while he stood behind them both, thrusting into Heero with all his might. He could see their reflection in the mirror ahead. Marissa's large, tanned breasts filled the mirror with fleshy round goodness. The heavy mounts bounced up and down, jiggling wildly as she was being fucked from behind like a horny bitch.

He saw Heero's reflection as well; his eyes were closed and his face a mask of ecstasy as he fucked the dark skinned woman. He could see himself grabbing the young man's hips as he penetrated him fiercely. Sandwiched between the two, Heero threw his head back in pleasure as he kept thrusting into the woman's voluptuous ass, fucking while being fucked. He moved in perfect sync with Heero's thrusting, moving hard and fast, driving in so deep that Heero banged Marissa even harder against the sink, causing the woman to scream and moan like a dirty whore. In his mind's eyes, Duo could clearly see Heero's nude body glisten with sweat as he panted and moaned hungrily, basking in sensually feral three-way sex.

_Fuck,_ Duo cussed as he became aware of his shortening breath and hard erection. He hurried to shake the image out of his head, feeling so horny he thought he might burst. His anger and lust merged into a hateful force, compelling him to instigate a fight with Heero. He simply couldn't stop himself from being nasty; he was enjoying himself beyond belief. He wanted Heero to _suffer_, he wanted him to _hurt_. He wanted to insult Heero so bad that his infamous temperance would shatter and he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore, draw a gun outta freaking nowhere, point it to his head and threaten to blow his fucking brains out if he didn't keep his _damn mouth shut!_

He wanted Heero to act like _Heero_ and not like some damn _Mister Nice Guy_ who helps little boys with their homework. He wanted Heero to be the man he wished to befriend again!

"I've agreed to watch over Adriel this summer because Marissa couldn't afford summer camp," Heero explained calmly, apparently choosing to ignore Duo's rudeness and being completely oblivious to Duo's little daydream.

"If she does repay me, it's by making us lunch, nothing more." Heero spoke coolly, like he was correcting a child and explaining his error. "We're just neighbors," he added with a sigh. "If you have a problem with what you see here, take it up with me," Heero turned to face Duo again; his blue eyes almost seemed wounded. "Don't belittle that boy's mother and _don't_ tell a small _child_ that he could get _shot_ for speaking his mind."

Suddenly, Duo didn't feel like taunting Heero anymore. He sat still and gaped at the man, feeling like a complete scumbag. Reason finally kicked in and he realized that he had behaved like a childish jerk. All he had planned to do was to talk some sense into Heero, he wanted to remind the man why they should be friends, and instead he was picking up a fight, pushing Heero away even more. He had to think of a better way to get through to Heero. Insulting the man and the people around him was not a good idea as it seemed initially. Gradually, his anger melted away, leaving more room for logic and common sense.

Taking a shaky breath, Duo tried to offer Heero an apologetic smile. He honestly regretted his behavior, which surprised him. Was Heero _that_ important to him that he was willing to put anger, frustration and possessive lust aside in order to regain the man's trust? It seemed as though Heero _really_ did have a positive effect on him.

"I uh... I'm sorry man," Duo mumbled and cast his gaze down, genuinely shameful. It was an emotion he hadn't felt in years, which was another encouraging sign that he was on the right track. Heero _will_ make him better.

"I dunno what came over me," he continued quietly, "I didn't mean any disrespect, sorry." He looked up at Heero, his cobalt eyes searching for understanding. "My head's all full of shit, yanno? It's totally fucked up. I wasn't thinkin' straight. Sorry."

After looking lengthily at Duo, Heero released a long sigh. "I don't know what you've been through over the past decade, Duo, but you've changed," he said quietly, clearly upset. "And I don't believe that you've changed for the better."

"Yeah, I know," Duo muttered, still keeping his head bowed for he was unable to face Heero. "I'm sorry... I know." He got up and prepared to leave the kitchen. He needed to get away from Heero for a while. He walked to the living room, where Adriel was playing a soccer videogame. The little boy looked up at him as he approached; there was a curious shine in his hazel eyes. They were a perfect combination of brown and blue. An exotic compromise between two dominant colors created a pair of eyes that were light brown/amber near the pupils and dark blue/green on the outer part of the irises. The effect was intense; the child's eyes just pulled you in with a tight and relentless grip around your very soul.

Those striking multicolored eyes radiated a sense of familiarity that beckoned to Duo. He suddenly wondered if Heero's eyes would have looked the same if he hadn't been forced to witness so much killing and spent his childhood playing videogames instead. The thought threatened to anger him once again and so he quickly turned to search for his cigarettes, lying somewhere in the gym bag he had carried with him the day before. The bag was resting on the floor by the sofa. He could feel Adriel watching him as he rummaged through it, making a racket. The child's eyes were demanding to be acknowledged somehow.

Sighing, Duo fetched his smokes from the bag and turned back to the kid. "Hey there squirt," he muttered and glanced up briefly, noticing how Heero was eyeing him like a hawk. He looked back down at the boy sitting on the sofa. "Sorry 'bout before," he said only because he knew that Heero was listening.

" 's okay," the boy shrugged carelessly and kept playing, "You were just joking, right?"

Duo supposed that unlike adults, children didn't bother holding a grudge for long; it probably interfered with their playtime so they forgot all about it. He gave the boy a big, fake, friendly smile.

"Sure. Wasn't very funny though, was it?"

The boy shrugged again and turned back to play his game. "Nah, not really," he muttered and in less than a second he was completely absorbed in the game again. Scowling, Duo clutched his pack of cigarettes and prepared to walk to the door.

"Where are you going?" Heero asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

"I'm dying for a smoke," Duo muttered, gesturing with the cigarette pack towards the door. He reached for the doorknob.

"You can smoke in the laundry room," Heero offered, "You don't have to leave."

Duo turned to face him, confused. "I figured you'd want me outta your hair for a while."

"I never said such a thing," Heero replied with a frown.

"But I... Shit, Heero. Why are you being so damn nice to me?"

"Because you look like you need it," Heero replied earnestly; his Prussian blue eyes were calm and honest, making Duo feel guilty again. He sighed and bowed his head, having nothing to say. He didn't deserve such kindness, but he was happy to receive it. Kindness meant that there was still hope for him yet.

"Listen," he began slowly, trying to make up for his all of his tactless slipups; "I, uh... I'm just going out for a smoke, I need to clear my head a little," he turned to the door again. "I'll be back later."

"Duo," Heero called after him, "I don't expect you to go down three stories and walk out of the building each time you want to have a cigarette. All I'm asking is that you use the laundry room and shut the door behind you."

Duo dared to look at Heero again, his eyes hesitant and confused. He simply could not understand Heero anymore. Unlike in the past, Duo couldn't fathom what made the man tick. Back during the war Heero was driven by a single and unwavering sense of purpose. _'Wartime Heero'_ was a very narrow and single minded person and those qualities made him very easy to read and to predict. Now Duo didn't know who the man was anymore; it left him feeling insecure, confused, and therefore – angry. He couldn't afford to become enraged again.

"Uhm... thanks Heero," he mumbled. "I appreciate it. I appreciate everything, I really do. I'm sorry for being such an ass. I can do better, I swear ta God I'll do better. I really didn't mean nuthin' by what I said." He knew that he was babbling, but he couldn't help it in his confused state. He just wanted this _'New Heero'_, this _Hiro _person, to like him again. He kept his gaze down on the floor, absorbed in self-pity and battling with barely suppressed fury.

"Hiro," Adriel called from the sofa, "the game is stuck."

There was a short moment of silence as Heero continued to look thoughtfully at Duo. After a lengthy pause, he tore his gaze away and broke eye contact.

"I'm coming," he told Adriel and, readjusting his eyeglasses, he sent Duo one last worried glance before he went to tend to the child.

Duo stood by the door for a minute longer, shifting his gaze between Heero and Adriel, carefully studying the interaction between the two. Adriel was obviously comfortable in Heero's presence; he allowed the man to come very near him and didn't seem to mind casual contact. Stranger yet was that Heero actually offered the child such contact, being very familiar with him as well.

When Heero was done fixing the game he gave Adriel the controller back. Then, he offered the boy a small yet clearly warm smile – and Duo's heart cracked almost audibly. The boy grinned back widely; a big childish smile, showing all of his missing teeth. Duo watched heartbrokenly as in response to the boy's smile, Heero's smile widened into an unmistakably soft and affectionate expression.

Duo felt _hurt_ at the sight. He has never seen Heero smile at anyone before, not even the smallest of smiles. He wasn't surprised to see that the gentle expression suited Heero's handsome face. Time had been kind to Heero; his matured features could easily carry off such a kind and humble smile.

_Fuck. He's fucking __**gorgeous**__ when he smiles! But shit man, this ain't the Heero I know! He's... he's not the same!_ Sighing dejectedly, Duo tore his gaze away from Heero's fine-looking face. Having had enough of staring at the "picture perfect" moment between the two, he headed to the laundry room to have his smoke, deeply troubled.

_No... He's not the same at all. He's so much better than that person... and I'm... I'm so much worse..._

* * *

><p>The laundry room was big enough to contain a washing machine and dryer, along with a hamper for dirty laundry. The room reeked of dog food and on the floor were a bowl of water and a bowl of dog food, right next to a round blue dog-bed full of golden fur that the damn dog had shed off.<p>

_Thrown to the dogs..._ Duo mused in dark amusement; _well, my life's a dog's life anyway..._

There was a large window at the wall opposite of the door, overlooking a backyard shared by the whole block; it was a square shaped patch of grass located between the backsides of nearby buildings. Duo opened the window and leaned forward on the ledge. Gazing down at the empty yard, he lit up his cigarette.

He wished the squirt would go home already so he could finally have a proper conversation with Heero. He needed to get things straightened out before he lost his freaking mind. Uncertainty made him anxious; he was constantly on edge. Such a mood would make him dangerous, and the last thing Duo needed was to become a threat to Heero. If push came to shove, he might end up doing something much worse than just scare a damn kid or tick Heero off. He might end up doing something much worse, something which Heero wouldn't be able to forgive so easily; something that might end up putting him in jail again and this time he was sure that his sentence wouldn't be so light.

A surprisingly genuine and candid feeling stirred deep inside of him. A thought echoed clearly in his mind:_ I don't want to hurt Heero again._

An image flashed in his mind and Duo shuddered as though suddenly cold. It was a dim image, seen as though through murky glass and hidden by heavy fog. It was an image of Heero, of hurt and – may Christ help him – _terror_ in his unusually vulnerable Prussian blue eyes.

Duo coughed, almost retching. His cigarette fell onto the ledge of the window and rolled down, plunging towards the backyard. Duo watched it numbly, feeling as though he himself was falling into a dark pit. He reached for his cross, praying for his faith to catch him from the fall.

Still holding onto his cross, Duo turned around to lean against the windowsill. Closing his eyes, he slowly slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor below the window. His fist remained closed tightly around his cross, his head bowed, as he prayed silently.

Something floated into his line of vision. Frowning, Duo turned his gaze to focus on it. It was strange; he couldn't recall opening his eyes at all. There was something floating across the small laundry room, drifting lazily in the air as though there was no gravity. It was a small aluminum-foil bag: ration packs.

Why would Heero have space rations in his laundry room? Why would he have them at all? And how in God's name were they _floating?_

Confused, Duo carefully rose to his feet without tearing his eyes off of the floating ration. Was he hallucinating? He hadn't hallucinated since detox. The small metallic bag floated towards him, as though guided by some mysterious force. It seemed so real, glimmering in the light coming from the window behind him. What the Hell was going on?

The floating ration drifted leisurely past him, brushing by his right ear. Puzzled, he turned so he could keep following it and nearly bumped his nose against the window.

"Holy fuck!" he cried as he was now faced with the window. It wasn't the fact that the window was suddenly closed that stunned him; it was the vision of space and the planet Earth below him which was so alarming. He was in space! Heero's laundry room was in freaking _space!_

"What da FUCK!?" he exclaimed, taking a shaky step back. Was he out of his mind?

_Jesus Christ – what was in that cigarette?!_

Someone gasped sharply behind him. He whirled around, dazed.

It was dark. He was no longer in Heero's laundry room. He was someplace small, tight and shadowy. Space rations floated in the air; the Earth's light, pouring dimly from the window behind him, reflected from their metallic surface, causing them to glimmer with a faint blue halo. All he could see were shadows, blurry silhouettes moving in the darkness ahead. The pale Earth light could not reach so far to illuminate them as well. There were voices coming from the black void; mad whispers, a jumble of incoherent words. Sounds of distress echoed in the darkness around him, shrieking all at once in a deafening clamor. The hairs on the back of Duo's neck stood, horrified.

"Da Hell's going on?" he called out, panicked. His voice resonated in the wall-less space.

A short scream came from within the darkness and died out quickly. It was followed by a broken whimper. Duo squinted against the darkness, trying to make out anything more than blurry silhouettes moving in the distance. The whimpering echoed in the darkness – pained, desperate and mournful.

Duo realized that he was clutching something in his hand. Looking down, struggling to see in the pale halo the Earth light provided, he saw that he was holding his trusty old combat knife; the same knife Officer Hakeem tried to apprehend before his release from prison. The switchblade was open; the gleaming metal was smeared with blood.

A sharp gasp cut through the silence, echoing in the void until it faded. Duo's head shot back up. Suddenly, the voices ceased. Only blackness remained; a dark chasm of silence. Looking ahead, all Duo could see was black. He was consumed by it. His heart was flooded with it until his soul suffocated. He couldn't breathe.

"Duo," Heero's quiet voice whispered from the blackness and Duo freaked out. Heero shouldn't be here. Not here, not in the darkest regions of his soul._ No! _He wanted to scream at Heero to get out of there while he still could, but his mouth refused to form the words.

"Duo," Heero called again and Duo gasped— jerking awake.

Looking up, Duo was surprised to find that he had fallen asleep in Heero's laundry room. He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall and holding a box of cigarettes in his hand.

Heero was standing at the doorway, looking at him worriedly through a pair of thinly-framed black eyeglasses. For a brief second, he didn't look like Heero at all. It took Duo a moment to get used to the sight of him as an adult.

"Duo?" Heero called his name again carefully, as though wary of his eerie silence.

"Yeah?" Duo finally replied shakily and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair a few times, taking a quivery breath.

"Why were you sleeping in here?"

"The dog's bed looked kinda inviting," Duo muttered heartlessly. He didn't feel like talking right now. All he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. Heero seemed to have picked up on his foul mood, and wisely said nothing. He stood at the doorway, studying Duo silently.

"You've been here for quite some time," Heero spoke after a while, looking at Duo with obvious concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Duo let out curtly; "Just having a smoke." He gestured with the cigarette box towards Heero. "I fell asleep, I guess. Jetlag, yanno?"

Heero nodded slowly, almost warily, as though seeing straight through Duo's lies. He turned to leave, but then seemed to regret it.

"Duo," he said quietly, still facing the door, holding the doorknob. "I think I owe you an apology."

"Are ya fucking _nuts?_" Duo exclaimed in alarm, refusing to believe what he had just heard. His nightmarish daydream was still fresh in his mind. The guilt was overwhelming. The last thing he wanted was to be apologized to, especially by Heero.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he quickly said, "Not to me, _that's_ for sure."

"I think I do," Heero insisted and turned back to face Duo. He leaned against the open door, his gaze thoughtful. Chowder used the opportunity to sneak into the laundry room to have a drink of water. For a while, Heero gazed thoughtfully at his pet.

"I was too harsh on you earlier," he spoke quietly; "I had wrongfully taken my frustration out on you. It was unfair, and I apologize for it."

For a moment, Duo was dumbfounded, simply unable to fathom a reason for Heero to apologize to him, not while his dream still lurked dangerously under the surface of his rational mind.

When he saw that Duo wasn't responding, Heero continued. "I held you responsible for something that is much bigger than you. I must have upset you and for that I apologize."

It took Duo a moment longer to find his voice and form a reply. "I don't get it," he finally said, frowning, "You held me responsible for what?"

"It doesn't matter," Heero said calmly; he briefly shifted his gaze away before looking back at Duo. "I wasn't feeling very well and I misspoke."

"You mean 'bout not being friends?" Duo asked, suddenly hopeful that he had self-flagellated for nothing. However the feeling only lasted for a split second before the heavy feeling resettled on his shoulders. Duo cast his gaze down, ashamed.

"No, Heero, you were right," he spoke shamefully, "I wasn't much of a friend to you and I realize that now. You had every right to say what you did. And as for the others..." he added in a miserable whisper, now staring at the floor. "I think I was the worse outta them all. I dunno what you think 'bout 'em but I know that I deserve the worse of your resentment." He looked up at Heero again, his cobalt eyes hurt and hopeful at the same time. "I don't mind being the scapegoat. You deserve some closure."

There was an awkward silence after Duo was done speaking. He stood stiffly, looking apprehensively up at Heero, afraid to see how he would react.

Heero too seemed unsure of how he should respond. He adjusted his eyeglasses and shifted his gaze aside uncomfortably, staring silently at Chowder which was loudly gulping down water from its bowl. He stared at his pet, deep in thought.

Chowder finished drinking and softly padded out of the laundry room. Heero's gaze followed the dog before turning to look at Duo. His blue eyes shimmered softly under the high-noon light pouring into the small laundry room.

"Please don't feel that you have to hide in here because you're uncomfortable in my presence," he asked and Duo wanted to just _die_ right there and then.

_God damn you Heero! Stop being so kind to me! Can't you see I'm a piece of shit? I don't deserve it._

Heero was being his damned old self: he was shouldering his burden for him the way he had always done; he was offering him his forgiveness when Duo didn't even feel that he came close to deserving it.

"I'll be in the living room with Adriel," Heero added quietly and turned back to the door. "You are welcomed to join us when you're ready."

Somehow, Duo managed to nod a response, numbly acknowledging Heero's words. He was barely aware of the man leaving the laundry room. He remained standing by the window and buried his face in his hands, feeling small and lost, unable to sort through the clutter in his head. Terrified and betrayed by his traitorous mind, Duo reached for his cross, clutching it tightly.

_Shit, God... please don't lemme slip again. Don't lemme end up hurting Heero like I— _A heavy barrier creaked and snapped, plummeting down forcefully. Its heavy crash echoed loudly within Duo's mind. The blockade would not allow him to finish his train of thought. Duo supposed that it was for the best; he didn't want to think about _that_ right now. It was enough that he was having morbid dreams about it. He was pretty sure that he was going insane too. The last thing he needed was to add to his troubled mind by vividly recalling the crime he had committed.

* * *

><p>Duo stayed in the laundry room to finish another smoke, and then another and then another, trying to calm his short-circuited nerves. When he was done with a third cigarette, he finally worked up the courage to walk back towards the living room.<p>

Heero was sitting by his home office under the window, typing away into his computer. Adriel was sitting on the living room floor, playing a videogame. As Duo walked into the living room, Heero spun his office-chair around to acknowledge him. In return, Duo offered him a faltering smile to indicate that everything was fine, even while he still felt like he was losing control over his mind.

Heero resumed his work on the computer. Duo noticed that the screen display was enlarged to about 200% zoom-in view and yet Heero was still hunched close to the screen as though he had difficulty to see the writing. He adjusted his black eyeglasses, narrowed his eyes at the screen and then looked closely at the keyboard before he resumed typing.

Frowning, Duo took a seat on the sofa and studied Heero quietly, taking in every curve of the young man's profile as he leaned to the side to leaf through some notes. Heero's simple gray T-shirt and bright blue denim jeans clung to his flesh as he moved, accenting his skinny frame. Duo watched Heero run a hand to push his long bangs up nonchalantly as he typed, which drew Duo's attention to his skinny arms. He found that he missed the taut muscular arms Heero had once possessed. He felt as though the person before him was only a shadow of the soldier he had once admired. The thought saddened him and he looked away, turning to face the little boy sitting on the hardwood floor under the television, completely absorbed in his videogame.

Looking down at the top of the boy's head, studying his smooth black hair and his childish little face, Duo suddenly felt very angry with Heero. There was just something in the boy that infuriated Duo beyond rational reason. He was so furious that he could actually draw out his jackknife and slit the boy's throat just to spite Heero; just so he could punish Heero for caring for the boy!

"So," he called out in his friendliest tone of voice, trying to distract his mind from gruesome thoughts. "What'cha playin'?"

The squirt shrugged. "A game," he mumbled, too busy pressing the controllers to give a more substantial reply. The response reminded Duo of a certain blue-eyed teenager he had once known. He turned to watch the large TV hanging on the wall and his eyes widened in shock when he saw a fighting game featuring two mobile suits bashing each other up. The suits weren't of any model he was familiar with, but their design was obvious enough.

"_Holy crap!_ Are those _Gundams?!_"

Adriel nodded eagerly as his fingers worked the controllers expertly. "Yeah, that's the new one._ Everybody's_ playing it," he explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No shit," Duo muttered, frowning at the screen. "Which one are ya?"

"The yellow one," the squirt mumbled as on the screen a yellow and dark-blue Gundam drew out a huge green saber beam sword and sliced a black Gundam with a scythe in two. A title flashed, declaring _'YOU WIN'_.

Duo grimaced and looked away.

"Can you believe this shit?" he turned to ask Heero, who was still busy working on his computer.

"Sure he can!" Adriel chirped. "Hiro helped program this game!" he declared proudly. "I helped too! The yellow one was my idea! It's the same colors as Club América! See?"

"Good God..." Duo exhaled in sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's fucked up."

"The money was good," Heero stated dryly, shrugging. He leaned closer to his computer monitor, adjusting his eyeglasses by pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

Watching Heero, Duo briefly wondered whether the squirt had picked up the shrugging gesture from Heero, or the other way around. There were just too many infuriating similarities between the two. Duo had to consciously control his breathing or else he would burst with fury.

He turned back to the kid. "Say, squirt, this thing got multiplayer?"

Adriel hurried to throw Duo a second controller. "Sure," he said, grinning. "You haffta choose one."

Naturally, Duo chose the Gundam most similar to his old buddy 'Scythe. Adriel smirked, shaking his head in an all-knowing manner. His lengthy black bowl-cut hair bounced and twisted around his head as he shook it. Duo had to admit that it was _almost_ cute, but it just made him want to smack the boy's head even harder.

"That one's the _worse!_" Adriel laughed when Duo picked the black Gundam. "It doesn't even have a _gun!_"

"We'll see 'bout that," Duo grumbled, "You're goin' _down_ squirt!" he threatened playfully as he flexed his hands on the controls. He actually felt as though he was going into battle against the brat and even the promise of a virtual fight managed to lift his spirit. In some twisted way, he rationalized that beating the kid in a virtual match would somehow mean that he was more worthy than the stupid brat. The satisfaction of kicking his little snotty ass in a game would be the closest he could get to actually bashing the kid for being more important to Heero than he was.

"Get ready to get your ass kicked, _squirt,_" Duo snarled and the match began.

Heero turned his desk-chair around to look at the virtual battle waging on the screen. He leaned back into his chair, folded his arms over his chest and watched the game intently. There was a dark and brooding look in his eyes as he stared hard at Duo's almost manic expression. A taut string of high alertness stretched between the two young men. One was highly aware of the other watching him and the tension grew with each passing minute. Adriel wasn't affected by the wary atmosphere. He seemed to be enjoying the game, especially since Duo wasn't faring very well. The child's virtual winged Gundam smashed Duo's scythed Gundam to the ground and ran a saber sword through his back.

A **'YOU'RE DEAD'** title flashed on Duo's side of the screen.

"This is _bullshit!_" he exclaimed angrily, "This shit ain't working right! The moves are all wrong!"

"It's just a game, Duo," Heero reminded him, "It doesn't have to abide to the laws of physics."

"Yeah, well, I woulda expected you'd at least stick with the basics. This shit's _fucked up!_ No Gundam can move like that! I'm being beaten by a freaking two-year-old!"

"Hey! I'm almost _seven!_" The boy called and an angry pout twisted his little face.

"Whatever. I wanna rematch!" Duo muttered and hit the 'rematch' button forcefully.

Once again the winged and scythed Gundams were ready to do battle on the screen.

Sighing, Heero shook his head at Duo's childish behavior and spun his desk-chair back to face the computer. He resumed his work while Duo and Adriel continued playing, but glanced agitatedly in Duo's direction every now and then. His posture was tense and alert as he worked on the computer, highly tuned in on Duo's every move, ready to protect Adriel if necessary.

Duo didn't let it show, but he had picked up on Heero's wariness of him. Smirking to himself, he inched closer to the boy and felt the already tight string of high vigilance between Heero and him stretch so tautly it would have snapped if it were tangible. He smirked darkly, but deep down it hurt him to know that Heero felt that he needed to protect the child from him. He allowed that hurt to further fuel his anger towards the boy. His attitude became fiercer and more resentful and he channeled all of it into the game, frantically pressing the controllers, jumping up to his feet as if waging a real fight, cussing loudly and shouting at the screen as though he was back in 'Scythe's cockpit until suddenly – the screen went black.

Stunned to the point of numbness, Duo stared at the blank screen. Slowly, he shifted his gaze aside and saw Heero standing by the coffee table, the remote control in his hand. There was a menacing glare in his Prussian blue eyes as he stared Duo down from behind a pair of black eyeglasses.

Heero's harsh glare was powerful enough to pin Duo violently back into reality. Gradually, he came back to his senses and put his hand down numbly, letting go of the controller. It fell to the floor with a noisy clatter. Casting his gaze down, he saw Adriel sitting on the floor at his feet, gaping at him with wide and almost frightened hazel eyes.

Caught between the two gazes – Heero's harsh glare and the boy's fearful eyes – Duo shuddered inwardly. He coughed to clear his throat and took a step back, bumping into the sofa; he thought he actually felt his rational mind jolt back to life at the bump.

"I, uh..." he mumbled, but he really didn't have anything more intelligible to say. He dared to look up at Heero and felt as though he was hitting a solid wall when he was faced with the man's threatening glare.

"Maybe you should go for a smoke and calm down," Heero suggested with a low, composed and stern tone which was neither a suggestion nor a request. "You've had enough videogames for one day."

Duo swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from Heero's intense blue eyes staring him down angrily.

"Yeah, 'kay," he blurted over the lump in his throat. Slowly, he turned around and looked down at the boy sitting by the sofa, still looking at him with shock.

"Sorry squirt," he mumbled, "Got too excited."

The boy offered him a numb, stunned, nod as a response. Sighing, Duo hurried to leave the living room and head for the sanctuary of the laundry room. He could feel the boy's confused eyes following him, along with another, much fiercer, blue gaze.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 04: Crime:<strong>

"Fuck, Heero!" Duo exclaimed angrily. "You think I _chose_ this?! You think I wanted to get so fucked up I couldn't even tell if it's my own voice talking inside my head?!"

OoooO

"Duo?!" Marissa's head snapped up and her gazed shot up to the man on the sofa. Her eyes were wide, stunned even. She then narrowed them as her features darkened scornfully.

OoooO

Slowly, moving one frantic heartbeat at a time, Duo leaned down. He allowed himself a moment to simply hover an inch above the Heero's parted lips, basking in the warm halo of his shallow breath. He licked his lips hungrily, his breath shortening with anticipation. He was going to do it. He was going to make Heero _his_...

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Is anyone reading this? If the answer is 'yes' then I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far. I know this story takes a (long) while to build up, but I hope it's still interesting enough to read.

And while you wait for the next chapter, please feel free to also check out my novel-length 1x2 thriller: **Left Unsaid**.

Also, check out the **graphic teaser** I made for this story – link available on my profile page.

Until next week!

Elle


	6. Chapter 04: Crime

**Author's Note:** Just in case Winter Storm Juno is threatening to ruin your plans for the day and you're settling in for a cozy snow day at home, I thought I'd share some reading material to help pass the time...

Elle

**Disclaimer:** GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes. Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

**IMPORTANT NOTE – PLEASE READ:**

Some readers have expressed concerns and even dismay at Duo's character in this story. I agree that he is one sick son-of-a-bitch and his character is quite difficult to like, especially when you're used to read about him being a certain way. I also understand that I'm not giving you much to go on, which makes it harder to keep reading.

I considered adding a flashback scene to this chapter, something nice from Heero and Duo's past, but I eventually decided against it because I don't want to compromise the plot that I've worked so hard to weave. Nevertheless, I fear losing readers, so I will say this to try ease your concerns:

**SPOILER ALERT! Read at your own discretion:**

**A.** This is a story about love and friendship enduring against all odds.

**B.** Duo is sick, and sick people can get better. He might be a piece of shit now, but that doesn't mean he is going to stay that way.

**C.** There's a reason behind Duo's mental illness and Heero is a big part of it.

**D.** Duo came to Heero for redemption because Heero has never let him down. Bear in mind that Heero is not the type to give up, certainly not on the ones he cares about and even more so if he feels responsible for the wrong they have suffered.

Bottom line: I'm going to make everything better, but not before I make it much worse.

And if that doesn't ease your mind, below is a vague spoiler extracted from somewhere towards the end of this story (skip it if you don't want to know how this story reaches its climax):

**SPOILER! SPOILER! SPOILER! SPOILER! SPOILER!**

"What kinda dirty trick you trying to pull?" Duo grunted; "I thought you didn't want to be my friend!"

"I never said that," Hiro stated calmly, despite the blade digging into his neck as he spoke. "I said I _can't_ be your friend, not that I didn't want to, there's a difference."

"Don't fuck with me, Heero!" Duo exploded heatedly. "I know you've been talking to Quatre! He's been poisoning you against me all along!"

"You're wrong."

"Bullshit! I saw you! I saw you and that _faggot_ Preventer agent! They were tellin' you all about it – weren't they!" Duo pressed the knife harder against Hiro's neck, breaking into the pale skin. A slow trickle of blood oozed onto the already bloody blade. [...]

"I thought we were friends... I thought you wouldn't leave me like the others did..."

This time, Hiro hesitated before speaking. He weighed the stakes, deliberating whether or not he had in him to speak the whole truth. Eventually, he decided that he had nothing to lose, because he could already feel his life slipping away.

"We _were_ friends," he admitted quietly and his voice wavered slightly despite his resolve; it was hard to speak truths he had denied for so long. "But I had to keep my distance, even while I still wanted... _needed_... you as my friend." [...]

"You're talking about MO2," Duo finally stated, whispering as though speaking shameful words of blasphemy.

Hiro nodded carefully.

[...]

"It's either you or nuthin', Heero, 'n I dun wanna be like this anymore. I wanna be better... I wanna be me again... That's why I need you so much... I know it's sick... I know... I know, Heero, but shit... I can't do this without you... [...] I want it to stop... Oh God, Heero, just make it stop..."

[...] "I will," he promised and Duo looked up at him desperately.

"You'll make it stop?" he sobbed, both hopeful and broken, and Hiro nodded to confirm.

"Yes," he said as he held Duo's hand, the one gripping the knife. He kept his gaze locked with Duo's as he offered him a faint, miserable, smile. "No regrets," he whispered calmly as he pulled Duo's limp hand up by the wrist, along with the knife, and held it up in the air above their heads. He kept his eyes on Duo's the whole time. "You do what you have to do," he spoke steadily as he leaned closer to the distraught young man. His right hand was still locked around Duo's wrist, keeping the arm with the knife up as he closed the distance between them completely, his face hovering a mere inch from Duo's. "This happened because of me, so I'm going to fix it," he whispered huskily and his eyes shone warmly. [...] "No matter what, you'll always be my first, and only, true friend," Hiro breathed the words out softly, closed his eyes and then sealed Duo's chapped lips with a kiss.

**END SPOILER.**

If you've read the spoiler, I assure you that this story might still surprise you. In any case, I hope now you'd be willing to give this story a chance.

Please?

Elle

* * *

><p><strong>One Week - Part 620**

**Chapter 04: Crime**

His cigarette box was still resting on the laundry room's windowsill as Duo entered the small room. Lighting up a smoke, he leaned over the window and gazed down at the small public yard surrounded by the block's residential buildings. A few children were playing on the grass while one mother waved a baseball cap at one of them, yelling at him to wear a hat. An old woman was walking her stupid furry white Poodle, waiting for the damn thing to poop.

Duo hated dogs. He couldn't stand it how people thought _they_ were the dog's master while in fact they were the ones who had to pick up after their pet when it took a fucking dump. He _loathed_ the damn canines. He was certain that the arrogant bitches were aware of that irony and thought they were so fucking supreme.

Drawing smoke from his cigarette, Duo released it with a long sigh and let his shoulders slump tiredly. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Chowder's bowls of food and water next to his comfy-looking dog bed. It pissed _the Hell_ out of him. The only kind of connection between a bed and a dog he was willing to tolerate was the "doggy style" position and that was it.

_Da fuck does a dog need a bed anyway?_ He mused cynically; _I'm human and I spent most of my life sleeping in the gutter. Da fuck does a dog deserve a bed and I don't?_

He _despised_ dogs! Why, how many times had he had to fight with a dog over a meal in some filthy alley while growing up on the streets of L2? How many times had he lost not only his meal but also his very _humanity_ to those dame beasts? People let stray dogs into their homes, fed them and cleaned them and showered them with affection, but no one ever took a miserable glance his way – a dirty little orphan living on the merciless street of L2. It pissed him off to see how Heero treated both a damn dog and a bratty kid with so much affection, but still could barely tolerate him – an old war buddy!

Heero made him feel like he was some kind of nuisance or a menace. His plan was to get on Heero's good side again and lure the man back into their friendship. He never expected being forced to compete for Heero's attention against a damn dog and some annoying next-door-neighbor brat who beat him in stupid videogames!

Things were not working out as he had planned and Duo was rarely able to handle matters that spun out of his control. He had lost that ability at around the same time he had lost his mind. The solution he could come up with to solve his frustrating problems was either to fight or flee. Even after years of therapy in prison, the best he could do was try keeping his anger at bay and _grovel_.

The laundry room's door opened gently and Duo heaved a long sigh.

_And once again – here comes the groveling part,_ he thought bitterly as he listened to Heero step into the room and close the door behind him silently.

Taking a deep breath to calm the rage swirling and sizzling in the pits of his stomach, Duo slowly turned around to face Heero. The man was standing in front of the closed door, his arms folded across his chest and a stern scrutinizing gaze gleaming coldly in his Prussian blue eyes.

"Listen man," Duo exhaled with a sigh, resigning to his fate as a pathetic idiot and preparing to apologize once again for being a complete _douche bag_.

"I'm sorry abou—"

"Stop apologizing, Duo," Heero cut in, clearly annoyed. "That's all you've done since you got here."

"Yeah, I know," Duo sighed when in fact he was seconds from simply snapping with anger. Since Heero couldn't possibly appreciate his efforts to keep his cool, Duo had no other choice but to add another useless: "Sorry 'bout that too."

It was Heero's turn to sigh. He studied Duo lengthily, keeping his hands folded over his chest in a stern and rigid posture.

"Duo," he finally spoke, keeping his voice low and calm; "I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, but... are you getting any help?"

"Help?" Duo repeated dumbly and fished another cigarette out of the box. He knew exactly where Heero was heading. He threw the cigarette into his mouth and caught it between his lips. "Ya mean like a shrink?" he muffled between pressed lips as he lit up the cigarette.

Heero gave a slow and careful nod of his head. "Yes."

Skillfully catching the burning cigarette between two fingers, Duo pulled it out of his mouth and blew out a long stream of smoke in Heero's way. The man didn't show it, but he was displeased with the cigarette smoke being blown in his face; Duo noted the slight twitching of his lips.

"Uhm, no, not right now. Costs too damn much," he answered Heero's question and then turned to him with a dark smirk. "Why? Do I look like I need one?"

Heero seemed hesitant to say. Slowly, he let his arms down more casually.

"I might not have the right to say this," he said, "but I think that you might—"

"Be seriously _disturbed?_" Duo completed the sentence for him.

Heero sighed. "I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it _loud 'n clear_," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Taking another drag on his smoke, Duo turned back to face the window. He leaned over the windowsill, gazing down thoughtfully at the yard.

"Yanno Heero, not _everyone_ got to live this _fucking picture-perfect _life you got goin' on here. Fuck, but life's been an even _bigger_ bitch to me since the war ended. I know I'm fucked up, alright? But it ain't your job to chew me out for shit no more, got it?"

He turned around, glaring at Heero with a pair of furious cobalt eyes. "I ain't no one's bitch but my own. Don't be treating me like you're some big somebody. You're _nobody_ now, just like everyone else. You and me buddy, we're on equal grounds now. You can't talk shit to me no more and I ain't apologizing to you no more!"

Heero didn't seem the least fazed by Duo's strong language and harsh words. He stood still for a moment, thinking, before calmly giving Duo his reply.

"You're right," he said quietly. "Perhaps I don't have the right, I probably never had, but I can tell you that life hasn't been easy for me either. I don't pretend to know what it's been like for you, but I will tell you this: we were handed our lives back when the war ended. We were given the right to choose for ourselves."

"Fuck, Heero!" Duo exclaimed angrily. "You think I _chose_ this?! You think I _want_ to be so fucked up I couldn't even tell if it's my own voice talking inside my head?! You think I _wanted _this? I didn't choose any of this shit! It just _happened!_"

"You had the choice to fight it," Heero responded harshly, clearly upset. His voice was hard, angry. His hands balled into fists and he stared Duo down with barely suppressed rage. There was a haunted, tortured look in his fierce blue eyes that made Duo wonder whether Heero was taking the issue a bit _too_ personally. But why should he? He had no right to preach him!

"You could have done _something_," Heero continued sternly, "but you chose to give up the fight," he finished with a resentful accusation. "You let it happen. You _chose_ to give in to..." he sighed, shaking his head before he evened his condemning gaze with Duo's. "You have no one to resent but yourself."

"Ain't that what's God for?" Duo muttered sarcastically. He drew more smoke from his cigarette and turned back to face the window, turning his back to Heero.

"I don't believe in God, but if I did, it wouldn't be for the sole purpose of blaming him for my misfortune."

"Then you don't know what you're missing."

"You are a very bitter man, Duo Maxwell."

"Ya think?" Duo snorted; "faith is for the bitter, and I'm as sour as they come."

"I thought you were raised to believe otherwise."

"Da fuck you know how I was raised!" Duo retorted angrily, whirling around to glower at Heero. "I know all about the _rewards_ people get for their blind faith in _God_. I know better, I know how to bargain for what I need."

"Feel free to believe as you wish," Heero responded calmly, "but I think that faith is about hope, not resentment, and definitely not about bargaining."

"If you don't believe in God then don't preach me 'bout what the _son-of-a-bitch_ is all about," Duo snapped angrily. "I'll do what I _fucking_ want with _my_ faith and _my_ God. I'll diss that _damn no-good two-timing bastard_ all I _FUCKING _want!" He shoved the cigarette angrily back to his mouth, glaring at Heero, daring him to comment on his belief or behavior again. If the man was shocked by his unusually disrespectful behavior, he did nothing to show it. Heero's features remained calm.

"Fine, Duo, if that's what comforts you, do as you wish. However, if you misbehave in front of Adriel one more time, I will not wait for this week to end before I kick you out of here."

With that said Heero turned around and left the laundry room, closing the door behind him. Duo snarled angrily at the door and then snorted cheekily. He turned back to face the window, glaring angrily at the burning cigarette in his hand.

"Fuck you man," he muttered and stubbed out the cigarette butt forcefully against the windowsill, glaring at the dark ashes splattering around it.

"Damn _saint_."

* * *

><p>Three more cigarettes and over an hour later, Duo felt calm (and reasonable) enough to finally step out of the utility room without the danger of snapping violently at anyone. Putting his infamous joker-mask on, a mask he had no need to wear for years, he stepped out into the kitchen. Both Heero and his pet occupied the neat and narrow room; Heero stood by the stove, cooking, while Chowder stood at the center of the room, wagging its tail.<p>

The damn beast was the first to acknowledge Duo as he re-entered the kitchen. The large Golden Retriever turned its head to glance curiously at the man but Duo paid it no heed; his attention was focused solely on Heero standing by the stove, stirring something in a steaming pot. The other man had yet to notice his exit from the laundry room.

Turning to his left Duo saw Adriel was still standing in front of the large flat screen TV, using a state-of-the-art Wii console to play baseball against an opposing team on the computer. Unlike Heero, the child did turn to look in Duo's way and much to Duo's dismay was the second one to acknowledge him when all he really cared about was gaining Heero's attention. Seeing Duo's harsh expression, the child shifted his gaze away from the man's resentful cobalt eyes.

Chowder barked once, demanding Heero's attention, or perhaps even warning its owner that Duo was looking at Adriel. At the sound of Chowder's barking Heero finally turned to Duo.

The two young men gazed at each other intensely. The air seemed to simmer around them as tension built up to an uncomfortable level. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, Heero tore his gaze away. He turned back to the stove and stirred the dish thoughtfully, refraining from speaking.

Heero's temperance was something Duo could handle, something he was used to. He was rather grateful that Heero chose not to say anything more after their conversation in the laundry room. Duo knew that he acted like a jerk, but he was tired of apologizing; he was thankful that Heero didn't demand any more apologies from him.

He took another step into the kitchen. A noticeable cloud of cigarette stanch surrounded him, clinging to his baggy black tank top and shorts, which earned him a short malcontent glance from Heero. Duo smirked. He enjoyed when people wordlessly criticized his excessive smoking. Smoking was an almost extinct habit in the AC era, usually associated with slum populations. Everyone smoked on L2. There were times when there was nothing to eat on the colony, but there was always a flowing supply of cigarettes, drugs and liquor. The people on L2 depended on those substances more than they depended on food in order to survive.

Cigarettes singled Duo out from the horde. They were a habit that marked him as an individual of a specific background; a background he was proud of despite stigma and prejudice. He felt powerful knowing that those who didn't approve of him preferred to keep their mouths shut about his nasty and unpopular habit, simply because they knew better than to mess with an _L2_ _punk_. Seeing that Heero also knew better than to say something about how he was stinking up his kitchen raised a strong dominant feeling in Duo's chest. He inhaled deeply, relishing in the empowering sensation.

"Making lunch?" he asked as he approached Heero, speaking so casually that one could clearly hear the false friendliness in his tone. He placed his hands behind his back carelessly, folding his palms together as he approached the stove. Heero turned to open the cupboard above him and retrieved three plates. He said nothing.

"Smells good," Duo commented calmly and leaned forward to look into the pot. "That the stew from this morning?" he asked as he examined the boiling dish, which looked nothing like the reddish-brown stew he had seen the squirt's mother hand to Heero that morning; for one thing, the boiling dish was creamy and_ green_.

Placing the plates on the kitchen bar, Heero turned to him with a frown. "What stew?" he asked, bemused.

His confusion managed to baffle Duo as well. For a moment he just stared at Heero, waiting for the man to realize on his own to what stew he had been referring to, but it soon became obvious that Heero couldn't figure out what he was talking about, for he just kept staring at Duo blankly.

"Did I mention I'll be making stew?" Heero pushed his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose uneasily.

"Uhm no," Duo replied with a wary frown, "I meant the one that broad made ya."

Heero resumed arranging the table.

"I decided it wouldn't be enough for the three of us," he mumbled an excuse and Duo's frown deepened. He found it hard to believe Heero's words. He could tell that the young man still couldn't recall the stew Adriel's mother made and he was trying to hide it. However he decided to give Heero the benefit of the doubt and nodded his head.

"Makes sense," he shrugged and turned back to examine the pot. "So what cha makin'? And why is it _green_?"

"It's green chicken curry," Heero explained and pulled out three drinking glasses from the cupboard.

"Nice," Duo muttered as he leaned to sniff the steam rising from the pot. "Smells spicy," he frowned suddenly, thinking. "I thought spicy foods give you heartburn."

"When have I _ever_ said such a thing?" Heero grumbled defensively.

"Hmm, you're right. Coulda been someone else," Duo mumbled and dipped a finger into the bubbling dish. He tasted the green gravy, noting that it wasn't piquant as he had guessed. It made sense, because he just _knew_ that hot foods didn't sit well with Heero. He didn't know why he was so certain of it, because they never dined together on anything of the sorts back in the days, but he just knew and by Heero's self-justifying reaction, he was right.

"Adriel won't eat it if it's spicy," Heero muttered an excuse and turned to put the drinking glasses on the kitchen bar. It was then that Duo noticed that Heero had arranged the seating differently than at breakfast; now there were two bar-chairs facing the living room while a single chair – the one Duo had used so far – was standing alone on the living room's side, isolated from the other two. Duo scowled, knowing that unlike at breakfast, Heero now expected him to sit alone while Adriel sat with him, where it was '_safe'_.

He resented the new arrangement but kept his mouth shut about it. Slowly, moving with the elegance of a predator, he made his way around the kitchen bar and took a seat on the lone chair on the other side.

Heero's eyes followed his every move cautiously.

Settling down on the tall bar chair, Duo reached for a knife Heero had placed at the side of his plate, picked it up and examined it as if to make sure that it was clean. He could feel Heero watching him closely, his eyes narrowing with distrust. He smirked inwardly, a dark cynical look shining in his eyes.

The simple butter knife hardly seemed dangerous, but Duo still enjoyed observing the way the light from the living room window caught on its surface, making the silvery metal gleam. He turned the knife in an angle which allowed him to see Adriel's reflection, standing by the TV, absorbed in his videogame.

Shifting his glance up, he pinned Heero's gaze spitefully, daring him to speak his mind.

Heero stared back, his blue eyes cautious but hardly stern; he seemed somewhat at a loss, perhaps even upset._ Hiro's_ expressions were so easy to read now!

The young man didn't say anything, choosing to ignore the subtext behind Duo's actions with the knife. He simply stood there – like a perfect prey – looking intently at Duo, assessing the danger.

Smiling smugly, Duo placed the butter knife down. He arranged it neatly by his plate and looked at Heero again, still smiling.

"Time to eat?" he asked innocently, his eyes gleaming with dark mischief.

Heero's blank expression turned into a deep scowl. He continued gazing pensively at Duo, clearly troubled by his actions.

"Adriel," he called while watching Duo closely, "Lunch is ready." He pulled out the chair he was standing by. "Come eat."

"Just a second!" Adriel called and scored another goal in his game. "YES!" he jumped happily, roaring like a stadium crowd.

"Adriel," Heero called impatiently.

"Okay, _okay!_ I'm _coming_ already! Geez!" the child muttered and dropped his videogame console. He ran to the kitchen; as he passed by Duo's chair, the child slowed his pace down and locked his apprehensive eyes on the tall young man, looking at him warily as he threaded carefully around the kitchen bar, towards Heero.

Duo rolled his eyes and looked away. He told himself that he couldn't care less if the boy thought he was a _creep_, but deep down it angered him. It angered him because it _hurt;_ it hurt to know that he could never have the affection Heero felt for Adriel.

Silently watching the boy's reaction to Duo, Heero gestured at the chair next to him and motioned the child to come sit by his side. Adriel climbed on the tall bar chair, keeping his eyes on Duo the whole time. Heero placed his hand on the boy's small shoulder, wordlessly assuring him that he was safe. Still, Duo could tell that Heero's eyes spoke differently from his action; his hand offered the boy comfort while his eyes were still troubled, still guarded.

Holding back from snorting crudely, Duo cleared his throat instead and straightened in his seat. He gave the boy a big fake smile, allowing the joker mask to speak for him.

"Hey, squirt, you can relax, okay? I don't bite, 'specially not when I'm just about to have ma lunch," he said in his friendliest fake tone, keeping his eyes on Heero instead of at the boy as he spoke. For Heero's sake, he was going to play nice, at least for now.

"I was just kidding' with ya back then. Don't tell me you freaked because of our little _game._"

"No I_ didn't!_" the dark haired boy protested immediately, defending his honor. "I didn't freak out – _you_ did!" He turned to look up at the man standing by his side. "Right, Hiro?"

After keeping the tense eye contact with Duo for a few more seconds, Heero turned to the boy. "Right," he confirmed and Adriel turned, smirking, and stuck his tongue out at Duo.

"See?" he said haughtily.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Fine, squirt, whatever."

"Adriel, go wash your hands before we eat."

"What are we having?" the boy asked as he jumped off the bar chair and walked to the kitchen sink.

"Green Curry," Heero replied and limped over to the stove to tend the dish.

The little boy washed his hands, frowning at Heero. "But mom made that stew I like."

"It wasn't enough," Heero grunted rather irately.

Adriel shook his head in an all-knowing manner. He walked back to the kitchen bar and climbed on his chair.

"Hiro always forgets stuff," he informed Duo, amused. However the moment he met Duo's stern expression the pleased gleam in the boy's eyes vanished. Falling silent, the child bowed his head to avoid the harsh glare.

"Oh yeah?" Duo muttered nonetheless, continuing the false pretense of a friendly conversation.

"Yeah," Adriel raised his head again, hesitant as he spoke, unsure if Duo was resentful or friendly. "One time he was supposed to pick me up after soccer practice but he forgot."

Duo snorted in response while his insides burned with furious envy.

"I didn't forget," Heero muttered as he brought the steaming pot to the kitchen bar and placed on a hot pad. "I was late." He took a ladle and began severing the green curry.

"Mom said you forgot," Adriel informed him smugly.

"Well she said wrong. I didn't forget, my car broke down," Heero insisted as he placed a plate full of steaming green chicken curry in front of Adriel. "Eat quietly."

"Remember when you rented that same movie _twice?_ You forgot then too," Adriel grinned teasingly, his passionate hazel eyes shining with mirth. Duo gave out a mocking snigger.

Sighing, Heero placed Duo's dish on the table and served himself a portion as well.

"So I did," he muttered as he finally sat down to eat, ignoring Duo's mocking gaze. "All those movies look alike."

"And the time you thought your car got stolen but you actually lost it in the parking lot?" The boy was grinning as he spoke, clearly enjoying teasing the older man. "That was so funny! We got stuck at the mall after dark!"

"How can you still recall that?" Heero marvel; "You were only four."

The boy shrugged. "It was the first time I rode the subway," he explained plainly.

"Man, you and Heero go way back, huh?" Duo cut in, waving his knife up and down casually, though the cold gleam in his eyes was far from carefree.

"Yeah," Adriel shrugged, "Hiro's around a lot."

"We've been neighbors since Adriel was two years old," Heero explained.

"That's when we moved outta my abuelita's house after my dad died," Adriel mumbled gloomily as he played with his food, poking it around with his fork.

"How did he die?" Duo asked skeptically.

"Uhm," the boy mumbled and looked up, frowning as though he was trying to recall the answer to that question. "I forgot," he finally shrugged; "Maybe he was sick? I was really little so I don't know."

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Duo pried some more and the boy's frowned deepened as he tried to recall.

"Uhm... no," he confessed. The boy was beginning to look a little upset. Picking up on the child's distress, Heero intervened.

"That's enough," he warned, but Duo ignored him. His attention was focused solely on the puzzled little boy sitting in front of him.

"Well don't you have any pictures of him?" he asked arrogantly.

"No," Adriel admitted with a small voice; he scratched his little head, troubled. "I never saw any. Maybe mom lost 'em."

"Them," Heero corrected. "Maybe she _had lost them_," he emphasized slowly.

Adriel rolled his eyes. "Kids don't haffta talk like that, yanno."

"By whose order?" Heero questioned; "I expect that kind of Ghetto talk from Duo, but not from you."

"That's not _Ghetto talk!_ That's just how kids talk, right?" he turned to Duo for confirmation, but the man just shrugged callously, not caring much for the boy's argument.

"Fuck me if I know," he grumbled; "I come from a damn L2 Ghetto 'n_ Grammar Nazi_ over there just can't get 'nough of _dissin' da way I talk_;" he muttered bitterly, emphasizing his Southern accent just for good measure.

"Yeah, but I'm not as bad as you are," the child pointed out smugly and Duo rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"You could still do better," Heero rebuked; "You don't impress anyone with your _Bad English_. Try setting an example by speaking properly."

"_Fine_," the child muttered insolently; "I'll just talk like _you_ do and get beat up at school," he taunted and Duo couldn't help the loud chuckle/snort that broke out of his mouth.

"So," Duo decided to continue pestering the boy. There was a haughty smile on his face as he spoke nastily. "You don't even know what your old man looked like?" he remarked arrogantly. "Do you at least know his _name?_"

"Duo, that's enough," Heero cut in again, obviously unhappy with where the conversation was going.

Adriel frowned. "I, uh... I don't think I remember. I guess I just called him Papí. Maybe Papá, I dunno. I can't remember. Why do you wanna know so much about my dad?"

"Yes Duo, that would be enough of your useless questions," Heero warned again.

"C'mon guys,_ relax!_ I'm just making conversation!"

"Mi tío—uh, my uncle Pedro says my daddy wasn't around much. I guess he was busy working or something," the boy shrugged carelessly. "But I think maybe my mom doesn't keep any pictures of him cuz it makes her sad to remember my dad," Adriel tried to reason. "Maybe she doesn't talk about him so she won't be sad," he turned to Heero, waiting for the man's approval of his assumption.

"That is a very wise thing to say, Adriel," Heero complimented the child with an approving nod of his head and the boy smiled, reassured.

Duo rolled his eyes in an '_oh please!' _gesture and in return Heero glared at him coldly; a warning not to continue upsetting the boy. Turning to the little_ squirt_, Duo sent him an apologetic look, as honest as a crook's regret could be.

"Listen, squirt, I'm sorry if I say things that upset you," he told the boy. "I guess the war messed me up pretty bad, yanno? I tend to forget people have feelings too."

"The_ war?_" The child's curiosity was immediately piqued. "You mean the one Missus Persse told us about?"

"I guess," Duo shrugged carelessly; "What other war was there?"

The child's face lit up with wonder and awe. "You fought in _that_ war?!" he marveled, jumping up and down excitedly. "You mean with all the Mobile Suits and the _Gundams?!_"

"Uh, yeah," Duo muttered, "Mobile Suits 'n Gundams. Lots of 'em. Sure."

"_Cool!_ You saw 'em for _real?!_"

"I, uh, yeah. Actually I—"

"He saw them on TV," Heero cut in harshly, sending Duo a dangerous glare. "Isn't that right, Duo?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, sure. On TV," he confirmed, nodding excessively; his lie as transparent as glass. "That's where I saw 'em. Mobile Suits 'n Gundams, sure, all the time."

"But you still fought, right? With the saber-beams and the beam-cannons— like in the game, right?"

"War is not a game, Adriel," Heero admonished coolly. "And we were far too young to fight." It wasn't a lie, Duo noted, but it wasn't the truth either.

Adriel's eyes filled with disappointment. "How young? Like I'm right now?"

Heero shook his head. "If you would have completed your math assignments for this summer, you would've known how to calculate our age during the war."

The boy pouted grumpily, but paused to give the math question some thought. "Uhm, was it... ten?"

Heero shook his head and Duo let out a snigger/snort.

Adriel gave Duo a little childish glare/pout and turned back to Heero. "Okay, was it... twelve?"

"Adriel, you're guessing," Heero rebuked calmly; "Try calculating it instead. If we are twenty seven now, in AC 207, how old were we back in AC 195?"

"I dunno!" the boy whined helplessly. "Eight_?_"

"You got a real _boy genius_ there, Heero," Duo sneered and the man sent him a short glare before turning back to the child.

"Adriel, you're not even trying," he scolded gently. "How much is two hundred and seven minus one hundred ninety five?"

"_Not fair!_" Adriel moaned in protest, "Those are really_ BIG_ numbers! I can only do the _little_ ones!"

"Then I'll give you half the answer," Heero offered; "how much is twenty seven minus twelve?"

"_Hiro_..." the boy accused, "I'm just moving up to_ second_ grade. It's not fair to ask me about BIG numbers!"

"Fine," Heero sighed resignedly. "We'll work on it after lunch."

"This guy doesn't pull any punches does he, squirt?" Duo smirked at the boy. It was just like Heero to expect everyone to be as damn near perfect as he was!

"You better watch it squirt," he smirked at the child, "If you come to him with less than an 'A' on that assignment he's gonna kick your fucking ass to kingdom's co—"

"Duo," Heero cut in, his voice and expression cold and menacing. "Be quiet."

"I'm just sayin'—"

"Shut up," Heero warned harshly. He glared at Duo for a moment longer before turning to Adriel. "I would never ask that of you," he assured the boy earnestly.

"Yeah, I know," the child muttered and shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

Heero nodded approvingly. He placed his hand on the boy's little shoulder. "You do what you can, alright? I'll help you with the rest."

Adriel seemed uncomfortable with the sudden gravity of his words. "You're being all _weird_," he criticized snootily; "May I be excused now?"

Heero sighed and drew his hand back from the boy's small shoulder. He noted that the boy had barely touched his meal. "Sure," he approved nonetheless and the child hurried to jump off the bar stool and rush to the living room, back to his videogame.

"Scared him off, didn't I?" Duo muttered bitterly.

"Just eat your damn curry," Heero grunted and resumed eating. He focused solely on his plate, refusing to acknowledge Duo any longer. It made Duo feel kind of rotten. The damn child was driving a wedge between the two of them, spoiling his plans to befriend Heero quickly before the week would end.

* * *

><p>After lunch, Heero sat down with Adriel by the kitchen bar and helped him with his math assignments. Duo remained in the living room to watch television, flipping through channels in pure mind-numbing boredom. Every now and then, his eyes shifted towards the adult and child, carefully studying the interaction between the two. Heero would lean closer to Adriel as he explained about one math problem or another and then he'd let the child try to solve it by himself. The little boy would reach to touch Heero's hand when he needed help solving a problem, gaining the man's attention in a most natural and casual way. Scowling resentfully, Duo turned back to face the television, trying to ignore an inconvenient yet obvious truth sitting by the kitchen bar.<p>

The hours passed by unhurriedly and uneventfully. Soon after Adriel had finished his homework he began nagging Heero excessively about letting him take Chowder out for a walk. Shifting his glance between the piles of papers on his desk and the little boy, debating the issue with great displeasure, Heero finally succumbed to the boy's irksome pleas and accompanied him outside; Duo couldn't be bothered to join them. Heero returned less than a half hour later, followed by a very content Golden Retriever and a grinning little boy bouncing happily around him, chatting relentlessly.

Duo hoped that the child would cease his constant nagging now that he had been appeased, but he soon found out that the small child was quite a handful. He was a bundle of energy, never sitting down for longer than a moment, unless the TV was on. Since Duo was hogging the remote, the child found little interest in what he was watching and instead he tried to keep himself entertained with stupid games. He decided that the polished hardwood floor was in fact a river of flowing magma which he was not allowed to step on no matter what. So, the squirt climbed on the furniture instead, moving around the apartment by bouncing from the armchair to the sofa, to the coffee table and then onto Heero who was sitting by his workstation under the window, engrossed in his work. Duo watched with mild amusement, blended with contempt, as the man calmly picked the child up by his narrow waist and, without even tearing his eyes off the screen, settled him down on the desk, before he resumed typing. It seemed that Adriel was no real bother to Heero; he was used to his playfulness.

Since Heero was already cooperating with his game, the squirt asked him to also move him to the kitchen bar, because he couldn't jump over the wide section of the magma river between the living room and kitchen. Duo was surprised to see Heero play along with the childish game. Still typing and keeping his gaze fixed on the computer monitor, he reminded Adriel that he too would drown and burn to death in the magma river. Adriel then informed Heero that they'd pretend that he was a rock floating in the river. Duo let out a short sarcastic snigger, which was quickly answered by a cold glare, before – much to Duo's surprise and resentment – Heero got up to play his role as a _rock_. He left Adriel stranded on top of the kitchen bar – an island in a river of hot magma – and resumed his work. After a while the child got bored with sitting on the bar surface and jumped down, announcing that he was now invincible to burning lava!

Duo rolled his eyes and continued watching television, ignoring the annoyingly energetic little squirt. Soon Heero asked him to give the TV up for Adriel's sake, to keep the damn brat still for a while. He argued and Heero glared and in the end he surrendered and handed the remote to the pain-in-the-ass who so obviously had Heero in his little pocket.

As idiotic and loud cartoons began flashing colorfully on the screen in front of him, Duo retired to the laundry room to have a smoke. When he returned, the annoying little boy was still watching the damn cartoons while chatting excitedly with Heero. The man was still working on his computer, offering incoherent acknowledgements (mainly 'hn's and 'mmm's) to the boy's relentless chatter. Duo watched the scene, furious. It used to be _his_ job to bug Heero while he worked!

With nothing better to do, Duo had no choice but to take a seat in the living room. He chose to sit in the black leather armchair, away from the little boy sitting on the sofa. Still, Adriel soon turned his big hazel eyes towards him, catching on that Heero was busy and Duo wasn't. He nagged Duo with his useless babbling. He told Duo all about stuff he didn't care for, such as what the stupid cartoon playing on the TV was all about, what his friend Jimmy was doing at summer camp and how _bummed_ he was that he couldn't go to summer camp too, but it was okay because Hiro promised that he'll go next year and besides, he was used to being with Heero, because the man always took care of him after school, unless his grandmother came to pick him up from school, which he didn't like _at all_ because she wasn't as much fun as Heero was and she didn't take him out to eat burgers or let him watch TV and play because she always wanted him to do his homework and _read stuff_ and even if Heero told him to do his homework, at least he wasn't so pushy and he helped him because he knew a lot of stuff...

Continuing his endless stream of chatter, the squirt told Duo all about the stupid soccer team he liked, how his uncle Pedro liked it more than anything in the whole wide world and how much fun he has when his mom lets him come over on weekends to watch soccer with Heero, because it was more fun watching it on Heero's _huge_ TV than at his uncle Pedro's house, because uncle Pedro had a lot of annoying friends who smelled funny and made him eat stuff he didn't like. Besides, he had more fun in Heero's place and he even informed Duo that their (his and his mother's) apartment looked _just_ like Heero's only bigger because he had his own room, which was a very _cool_ room because Heero bought him his own TV and all his friends were jealous of him because he could play videogames and watch cable in his room!

By that point Duo felt like puking. What has the damn squirt ever done to deserve so much _stuff_, so much love and affection_?_ When he was the brat's age, he was thankful if he had someplace warm to spend the night, or at least a lousy roll of weed to help him make it through the cold night on an empty stomach. No one ever showered him with so many precious things. No one has ever paid him half as much attention as the spoiled brat was getting from Heero. He didn't even know that the ex-pilot was capable of such... such... he couldn't even think of a proper word, because it simply wouldn't sound right when it came to Heero! It wasn't fair; it just wasn't! He_ hated_ the damn squirt!

Angry, frustrated, envious and hurt, Duo ignored the boy and closed his eyes, pretending to have fallen sleep. He could still hear the annoying brat, though. The little squirt had finally turned to nag Heero again. Duo could not fall asleep and was forced to keep feign slumber as he listened to the brat nag Heero to read him a book – "Horton Hears a Who". Heero pointed out that he had already read him that book many times before; however the squirt just kept on nagging, whining that it was his favorite book. Duo would have slapped the damn brat, but Heero handled it much better. Instead of surrendering to the boy's nagging and leave his desk, Heero asked the child to read the book to him instead. Duo couldn't help but groan in frustration, betraying his alertness. He had to listen to the damn brat read the book out loud, so very slowly, stammering when he read big words. It must have been the most annoying experience he had had in his_ life_. He struggled to tune out the child's annoying little voice before he would lose his temper and smack him over the head with the book until he saw blood!

At some point he managed to finally doze off on the uncomfortable leather armchair, snoring loudly. Then, at long last, the time was twenty past five and the doorbell buzzed frantically, waking Duo up.

Chowder was already waiting by the door when Heero went to answer it to greet Marissa. The young Latin woman was dressed in her blue maid uniform, looking exhausted after a day's work. She gave Heero a polite nod and he returned the gesture.

"Hello Marissa. How was your day?" he inquired courteously. His voice sounded awkward, a bit _too_ well-mannered in Duo's mind, as though he was walking on eggshells – a trait which he refused to associate with Heero.

"Fine," Marissa muttered briskly. "Is my son ready to go?" She peeked into the apartment, looking around in search of Adriel. Her eyes soon spotted Duo sitting on the leather sofa and quickly narrowed with distrust. Her whole posture tensed. Her dark brown eyes focused on the large silver cross dangling over Duo's black tank top and she raised a hand up to reach for a necklace around her neck, clutching a delicate golden cross pendant which hung above her bountiful bosoms.

Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously. How dare she look at him like he was some piece of scum?

All the while, Adriel was sitting by the computer in Heero's workstation, playing an online game. Marissa turned to him, avoiding Duo's menacing eyes.

"Adriel," she called her son urgently, "venaquí. Eshora de dejar. C'mon papí."

"But mamá! I'm winning!"

"_Now_, papí," she commanded impatiently, using a typical motherly authoritative tone. "Don't you dare keep me waiting," she added a warning, glancing cautiously at Duo.

Heaving a dramatic little sigh, Adriel jumped off the desk-chair. He went to pick up his schoolbag from the kitchen bar and then ran towards his mother. The woman took the hefty bag from him and placed a protective hand over his shoulder.

"I made sure he's done with his math assignments," Heero informed her, sounding as though he was trying to please her somehow – which Duo didn't like one bit. He saw Marissa give Heero a short dismissive nod. She turned to her son with a skeptic frown.

"Did you solve the problems yourself or did you let Hiro do it for you?"

"He did it himself," Heero assured her, "I only helped."

"Yeah," the boy hurried to agree, "Hey, Mamá, did you know that Hiro and Duo were _fifteen_ during the war? And they saw _Gundams?_"

"Duo?!" Marissa's head snapped up and her gazed shot up to the man on the sofa. Her eyes were wide, stunned even. She then narrowed them as her features darkened scornfully. "What—"

"He's Hiro's friend from outta town," Adriel informed her; "Yanno they saw the _real_ _Gundams_? Did you see any Gundams too mamá? How old were you back then?" Adriel piped curiously.

"Not old enough," she muttered and dismissed the question. She was glaring angrily at Heero.

"Why?" Adriel peeped, but Marissa ignored his question.

"Care to explain this?" she hissed coldly.

"I can't," Heero stated bluntly and Marissa rolled her eyes.

"Of course you can't," she muttered cynically; "Jesus, Hiro," she released an exasperated sigh and grabbed her son's chin tightly, turning his head left and right as she examined him carefully as though making sure that no harm had been done to him.

"Don't grab him like that," Heero protested and she silenced him with one glare. The sight angered Duo even more than her arrogance towards Heero. Still sitting on the armchair, he tensed, watching the woman with a shady scowl.

Adriel winced uncomfortably and tried to pull away from his mother's grip on his chin. "Hey! Cut it out! Mamá! Quit buggin' me!" he cried in annoyance and raised his little arms up to push her away.

Sighing, Marissa let go of the child and pulled her purse up, indicating that she was about to leave.

"Same time tomorrow?" Heero asked before she could walk away.

"No, I don't think so," she replied curtly as she glanced harshly at Duo sitting on the sofa. Duo returned her fierce gaze with an equal one of his own. In turn, Marissa rested both her hands firmly over Adriel's little shoulders, pulling him closer to her lap as though to shield him from some unseen danger. Duo glared at her silently, but otherwise remained seated motionlessly on the sofa.

Marissa turned back to Heero. "I'll ask my mother to do it."

"No!" Adriel protested loudly. "I dun _wanna_ go to _grandma!_"

"Then you'll have to come with me to work," Marissa warned irritably.

"_Oh man!_" the boy whined; "I _hate_ hanging around the hotel! It's so _boring! _Why can't I just stay with Hiro like always?"

"Yes," Heero agreed, "Why—"

"You know very well _why_," Marissa cut-in crudely as she sent Duo a harsh glare. When he glowered at her silently, she turned back to Heero again, ignoring him. Looking at Heero, Duo noted that the young man's expression had suddenly turned stony, numb.

Marissa pulled her purse up again, indicating her impatience and that she was ready to leave. "C'mon papí," she urged her son, "Say goodbye to Mister Nakasone."

Heero's shoulders visibly tensed at the sound of her cold voice calling him by his last name.

Duo's eyes flashed angrily.

The little boy looked up and sent Heero a cheeky smile. "Bye Hiro," he mumbled dejectedly, shrugging his small shoulders sadly. He then turned to Duo and waved goodbye. "See ya Duo," he added and Marissa seemed to stiffen even more. She took a step back, pulling Adriel with her.

"Later squirt," Duo waved casually at the boy, but glared at Marissa. To provoke her, he smiled friendlily at her child. "Take good care of your momma 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay," the boy mumbled and Marissa glared at Duo, who quickly pinned her harsh gaze with a ruthless glare of his own.

Marissa hurried to look away. "C'mon papí, we're leaving." She finally turned to leave, taking the little boy with her.

"Goodbye," Heero murmured after the two, looking at the small child with an almost forlorn gaze. Adriel turned around to offer one last wave of goodbye. Heero waved back as the mother and child disappeared down the hall. Sighing heavily, he closed the door. He turned to face Duo, who was still sitting on the sofa. For a moment, he simply stood unmoving by the door, staring broodingly at Duo.

Duo ignored him. He turned to the TV, grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels until he reached the music channel. A music video was playing, featuring provocative looking girls dancing seductively to the beat. He turned up the volume and watched the video clip play.

"Do you intend to keep sitting in front of the television all day?" Heero finally asked.

"You gotta problem with that?" Duo grumbled in response.

"I have work to do."

"No one's keeping you from doing it."

"You realize that it's already Monday."

"Yeah, so?"

"You should start searching for employment," Heero reproached with dismay. "You've already wasted most of the day smoking, watching television and playing videogames."

"But you said you were gonna talk to that guy for me," Duo said without even turning away from the television, too absorbed in the provocative images flashing on the screen.

"What guy?"

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ – who else?" Duo turned around to give Heero an irate look. Heero glared back, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm.

"The _garage _guy, Heero," Duo grunted with annoyance, rolling his eyes. "You said you'll talk to him about hiring me, remember?"

The perplexed expression did not vanish from Heero's face. He took a moment to think, apparently trying to recall his promise to Duo.

"What _'garage guy'_?"

"Your mechanic! The one you programmed a database for or whatever! You said you'll talk to him about hiring me. You said you'll _vouch_ for me, remember?"

"Yes," Heero let out quietly, frowning as he seemed to struggle to recall the matter. "I intend to do that but I think you should also try searching the wanted ads, just in case he refuses," he explained and then suddenly grimaced. He reached a hand to push his eyeglasses off the bridge of his nose, wincing.

"_Fine_," Duo grumbled and turned back to the television, changing channels petulantly; "I'll get on it first thing tomorrow."

As if sensing the tension in the air, Chowder stepped out of the laundry room where it had been napping and approached its owner. Seeing that the damn dog was out of its hiding place, Duo shifted his eyes aside to follow the stupid beast as it made its way past the sofa towards the door. He saw that Heero was still standing there, his features contorting slightly in pain as he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

"You okay man?"

"Yes," Heero murmured and readjusted his eyeglasses. "I'm just... tired."

Duo let out a short sneer. "Yeah well, all of that grade-school math must have worn you out." Duo shrugged carelessly. He turned back to the TV and resumed flipping through the channels.

"I still have to complete my... mi..." He heard Heero mumble faintly. Then Chowder let out a short alarmed bark, which was immediately followed by a low thud, like a large lump of meat falling to the floor.

Frowning, Duo turned around.

Heero has collapsed and was now lying unconscious on the floor behind the sofa, just a few steps away from his desk.

"Shit," he cussed and jumped off the armchair. He hurried to circle the sofa and crouched by Heero's side.

Chowder was probing Heero's unconscious form with its snout, sniffing him and getting in Duo's way. Duo shoved the damn dog violently out of the way. The pet wailed sadly but didn't approach Duo again; it stood a foot away, looking at the two with a pair of gleaming brown eyes.

"Da fuck's wrong with you today?" Duo demanded as he flipped the unconscious man over so that he lay on his back. As he was turned, Heero's glasses slipped off, falling to the hardwood floor with a soft clatter. Aside from a few stray bangs falling over his closed eyes, his features were vulnerably exposed.

Duo gawked at Heero's face, now unhidden behind the pair of black eyeglasses. He had gotten so used to the sight of a mature Heero with eyeglasses on that for a split second he was stunned to see him without them again; it was like having a glimpse back into the past, a flashback to the teenage boy Duo had used to call his friend.

"Heero..." he whispered wistfully, greeting the sight of his long lost friend.

Slowly, as if afraid to disturb something holy, he reached a hand down to touch Heero's face. He stopped only an inch above his hot skin, hesitating before plunging down the rest of the way.

Carefully, he brushed a group of soft hairs out of Heero's eyes, tucking them gently behind his ear. He hesitated only for a moment before resting his fingers tenderly over the man's clean-shaven cheek. It was soft, smooth and warm to the touch. Duo allowed his fingers to travel down the man's face, tracing his handsome features carefully. His eyes focused on the man's closed eyelids before shifting to stare solely at Heero's slightly parted lips.

He swallowed hard, forcing a lump of nervousness down his suddenly dry throat.

_Do I dare..?_ he asked himself, hesitant and apprehensive of answering his own question, of answering his own need and desire. _It won't do no harm if no one knows about it..._

He gazed fondly at his friend's oblivious sleeping face. In his unconscious state, with his features relaxed, Heero seemed so much younger, so much more like the boy Duo had known and admired all those years ago. Staring lengthily at Heero's lifelessly agape and inviting lips, Duo's logic gradually slipped away. It was replaced by a deep longing and by an aching yearning for closeness and acceptance. His heart pounded for Heero, his lips tingled for a warm welcoming touch and his loins burnt with the need to dominate and conquer. He knew that it was now or never. Heero would never be his otherwise; he mustn't miss this chance.

Slowly, moving one frantic heartbeat at a time, Duo leaned down. He allowed himself a moment to simply hover an inch above the Heero's parted lips, basking in the warm halo of his shallow breath. He licked his lips hungrily, his breath shortening with anticipation. He was going to do it. He was going to make Heero _his_. He was going to be Heero's first again; the first man who had ever kissed his virginal lips.

Looking closely at Heero's closed eyes, Duo inhaled a shuddering breath and leaned down to seal the young man's lips with a kiss.

He held his breath as his lips met Heero's, expecting sparks to fly and his heart to soar. Instead, his stomach flipped with anxiety and his heart jolted violently in his chest as fear and adrenaline hit simultaneously. A distorted image flashed in his mind; for a split of a second he saw anguish and betrayal flood Heero's Prussian blue eyes and so he clutched his own eyes tightly shut, forcing the mental image away. Ignoring the throbbing pain in the deepest regions of his heart, Duo concentrated solely on the kiss.

Heero's lips were dry to the touch; lifeless, but warm. Warily, Duo sneaked his tongue between the unconscious man's lips and forced them open further. He licked the limp flesh to dampen it and then dove in for a wet yet hardly succulent kiss.

His heart raced wildly in his chest and his breathing became labored; nervousness and shame knotted in his stomach. Still, he refused to withdraw and plunged in further, submersing himself in Heero's mouth, his warmth.

He kissed Heero lengthily, taking his time to explore the helplessly unaware mouth. He teased the lifeless tongue inside Heero's mouth, begging it to come to life and respond to him. His kissing became fiercer, more demanding and angry as the seconds passed and Heero did not respond. Grabbing the man by clutching his arms forcefully, Duo lifted the unconscious Heero up, bringing him closer hungrily, pressing torso to torso as they—he—continued kissing. He reached a hand to support the man's lolling head and pushed Heero closer to him.

Chowder watched the odd scene playing out before him: his owner lay limply on the floor, held in the hands of a stranger. Heero's arms dangled lifelessly at his sides, as Duo continued to ravage his oblivious mouth with a sloppy wet kiss. The dog cocked its head aside in confusion, observing curiously.

Unaware of anything but the sensation of Heero's warm mouth against his tongue, Duo continued the unwelcomed kiss. That is, until Heero's eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 05: Confessions:<strong>

"NO!" Duo shouted, shaking his head wildly, his hair flinging from side to side. "It was just a _kiss!_ I ain't done nuthin' wrong!"

OoOoO

Duo was completely oblivious to the pair of green eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror of one of the cars in front of Heero's building. The driver watched him from behind a pair of golden eyeglasses.

OoOoO

"I fucking _hate _the way you look at me now – like I screwed you somehow! I ain't the one who fucked you up, Heero – life did! [...] You can't be blaming me for shit! I ain't done you no wrong!"

"_You!_" Heero huffed angrily, panting with rage. "You have no idea wha—" he quickly caught himself from completing the sentence.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I hope you're still with me here...

Elle


	7. Chapter 05: Confessions

**One Week - Part 7/20**

**Chapter 05: Confessions**

Sensing the sudden tensing of Heero's tongue, Duo halted his kiss and shifted his eyes up. Heero's numb blue eyes gawked back at him. Their gazes locked. Duo couldn't breathe. Frozen in shock, he couldn't detach himself from Heero's lips either.

Then, in a sudden burst of lucidness, Heero's eyes lit up with recognition and quickly widened with panic. He choked out a muffled yelp, straight into Duo's mouth. His whole body stiffened as he tried to struggle out of Duo's tight hold, attempting to push Duo off of him, all the while muffling sounds of distress into the lips locked around his mouth.

Chowder started barking and growling in response to its owner's distress.

Then, just like that, Heero's anxious groaning died out and his blue eyes rolled back into his head. His body went limp and he fell back into a state of unconsciousness.

Duo jerked backwards, dropping Heero. The man fell; dead weight thudding against the hardwood floor. Guilty and afraid, Duo quickly crawled backwards, distancing himself from the scene of the crime.

Panting heavily, he stared at the unconscious young man lying on the floor. Heero's head had lolled to the side, facing Duo. His eyes were closed and his bruised lips glistened with saliva. His arms lay folded awkwardly across the hardwood floor and, aside from the slight movement of his chest under his grey T-shirt, Heero remained completely motionless.

Duo's eyes focused on the man's bruised lips and his stomach roiled with nausea. He flung forward on all fours, coughing dryly and quivering with fear of the repercussions of his selfish crime.

"Shit," he cussed and shamefully buried his face in his hands. "_Shit, shit, shit!_"

The dog continued barking, signaling its owner's distress to the world. It took a while for its angry howls to register with Duo.

"_SHUDDUP!_" he whirled around and screamed. "SHUT _DA FUCK_ UP! _SHIT!_"

Stumbling up on two feet Duo charged at the dog and grabbed it by its collar. Chowder tried to struggle and break free, but Duo overpowered the large beast and dragged it towards the laundry room. He kicked the dog inside and slammed the door shut with another kick. Inside the utility room, Chowder barked frantically while scrapping against the door.

"Shuddup already!" Duo shouted and kicked the door fiercely, scaring the dog off. Chowder continued barking relentlessly; its howls were loud and aggressive, filling the apartment with sounds of distress.

The constant barking did not only serve to anger Duo further, but it also fueled the anxiousness burning in his chest. He turned his gaze towards the living room, where Heero lay sprawled lifelessly on the hardwood floor between the sofa and his desk. Duo's eyes glimmered with unshed tears as he watched the man lying there, violated and used, thrown aside like a discarded toy. This was _not_ the soldier he knew.

The afternoon light coming from the living room window shone on his damp lips, catching Duo's glance. He focused on Heero's bruised and abused lips, slightly parted in unconsciousness. Guilt flooded his chest, threatening to overflow until he'll suffocate, drowning in his own sense of remorse. The Soldier was gone... and it was his fault. He had reduced Heero into this... this... this abused _corpse_ lying on the floor.

"NO!" Duo shouted, shaking his head wildly, his hair flinging from side to side. "It was just a _kiss!_ I ain't done nuthin' wrong!"

He wanted nothing more than to pick Heero up and place him somewhere safe, to bring him to a place in which he still had some dignity left; a place far from him – his molester. However his feet were rooted to the spot, he was unable to move. The guilt was so overwhelming that it had transformed into pure fear, making him unable to think or even stir. He simply stood there and stared at Heero, listening to the sound of his own wild heartbeats and Chowder's loud barking in the background.

A timeless moment seemed to pass slowly, stretching longer than any other tormenting moment in Duo's life. Snapshot images flashed in his mind, torturing him with memories of his past crime: a fan of platinum-blond hair flew backwards into the air as a head was thrown back in pleasure; ocean-blue eyes fluttered shut with ecstasy; passionate hands roamed all over his body; droplets of sweat slid down his chest and onto another's flat abdomen; the same ocean-blue eyes snapped wide open in panic; thin pink lips gasped in a silent scream; his muscled arms flexed with effort; his need, hunger and fury became uncontrollable. It had ended... tragically bad. More snapshots assaulted his mind's eye: a bruised and beaten body, the blood under his fingernails and a pair of glazed-over ocean-blue eyes remaining wide open, forever gazing up at him in shock and disbelief.

The last image to flash in his mind was the loathing glare Quatre had given him during his trial. That hateful gaze was glued to the back of his eyelids each night when he went to bed. There was no avoiding it. There was no avoiding what he had done. And now... now he was so dangerously close to repeating it. The mere thought of it sent Duo's mind reeling with horrid images oozing blood, lust, hate and fear.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Exhaling a sharp gasp, Duo jolted and froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. He turned his head aside numbly towards the door.

The ringing was followed by a knock.

Duo's eyes quickly shifted towards Heero lying unconscious but a few feet away from the door. His heart began racing faster with anxiety. He stood silent and unmoving, struggling to control his breathing and desperately willing whoever it was behind the door to give up and go away.

However Chowder was still barking in distress and the knock on the door became faster and more anxious.

"Hiro?" a deep male voice called, "Are you there? Is everything alright?"

"_Crap_," Duo grumbled under his breath. His eyes sought for a way out of the situation. He locked his gaze on Heero, looking at him closely. Luckily, Heero wasn't showing any signs of waking up. If he waited long enough, the person behind the door might give up and leave.

Chowder continued barking like crazy. Duo stood anxiously by kitchen bar, waiting for the intruder to depart. But then he heard a key slide into the lock and his breath caught in his throat.

_"Fuck!"_ he cussed and hurried to run to the door. He unlocked it before the other person could and flung the door open. He was relieved to recall that it opened to his left, thus concealing Heero from sight.

A man, around forty or so, stood outside of Heero's door. He was pale, lanky and with a red set of hair and a red beard. He was dressed in an elegant pair of dark jeans and a fancy white dress shirt. He was also wearing a stylish pair of golden eyeglasses. Overall, his appearance gave Duo the impression that the man was either some fancy faggot, or a total _dork_; possibly both.

"What do you want?" Duo asked bluntly, frowning and being purposely rude.

The man was caught by surprise. "Uhm," he let out in confusion, "Is Hiro home?"

Duo stiffened and tensed visibly; highly aware that the man he had just molested was still lying concealed behind the door. His senses tuned on any sound that might be coming from Heero's direction, but he heard none. He resisted that urge to shift uncomfortably or glance aside towards Heero. Instead he focused on the lanky bearded redhead in front of him and scowled.

"Who's asking?" he asked curtly and raised his chin up defiantly.

"Oh, yes, of course." The man smiled kindly and reached his hand out for a handshake. "I'm Jerry," he said, speaking as though he expected Duo to know him. When Duo simply stared at him, scowling, the redheaded man's smile vanished and he cleared his throat. "Uh, Hiro's sponsor? He must have mentioned me – Gerald Hodgins?" he said in a tone implying that he still expected Duo to put two and two together and figure out who he was.

Duo only frowned deeper. _Sponsor? Da fuck?_ "You mean from work?" he asked to clarify.

It was the man's turn to frown. "Uhm, no. Where is Hiro?" he asked again and tried to look into the apartment; Duo quickly stepped aside to block his way, pinning the man's gaze with his own.

Jerry frowned. "I told him I'll be coming to pick him up at six," he explained and Duo's eyes turned to focus on the key the man was still holding in his hand.

"Pick him up where?" _A date?!With this faggot? Piss off, ya cock-sucking fuck. Da fuck you have a key to Heero's place anyway!_

Jerry paused to give Duo a good once-over, studying him from head to toe and making Duo feel very self-conscious. He probably looked like a mess, giving away his unstable state of mind. He hoped that his lips weren't swollen from kissing Heero so forcefully.

Glaring at the slightly taller man, Duo pinned his gaze with his so he wouldn't look anywhere else.

The redheaded man frowned. "I'm sorry, but who might you be again?"

"Just a friend," he retorted, not caring to give away more than necessary. He crossed his arms over his chest impudently.

"I see," Jerry muttered, glancing away as though uncomfortable; Duo could tell that he was trying to get another peek into the apartment.

The sound of Chowder's barking was still coming from the utility room. Duo pulled his shoulder blades closer and straightened his back, trying to gain a more dominant posture in front of the taller man standing before him. He pinned the man's green eyes with his fierce cobalt gaze.

"Is everything alright?" Jerry asked with concern and readjusted his golden eyeglasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose and thus trying to conceal that he was trying to peek into the apartment again. Duo, of course, wasn't fooled by the man's futile attempt to hide his shifting gaze. His sharp senses did not fail to see the wary shine in the man's green eyes.

"Usually when Chowder barks like that, I know that Hiro must have fainted somewhere in the apartment," Jerry explained and gestured with the spare key he was holding.

Duo's expression hardened into a malicious glare. _Da fuck is this faggot? And how much does he know about Heero that I don't? Why would Heero give him a damn key anyway? I'm the one who should be taking care of him – not this ass-hole-licking-fuck!_

"Yeah, I know," Duo faked a friendly smile. "Heero wasn't feeling well so I helped him get to bed before he went out-cold on me allova sudden," he lied smoothly; lying was a second nature to him. "Now the dog won't stop barking."

"Is that so?" Jerry mumbled skeptically. "You need to walk him. That usually calms him down."

_Da fuck are YOU to be tellin' ME what to do! Fuck off, faggot. I don't need no fancy shmancy homo snooping around Heero._

"Yeah, well, I was just about to take it out," Duo answered with a phony smile.

Jerry nodded. "Okay, so, just tell Hiro that I'll give him a call later. Oh, and that he still owes me that soda," he added with a smile which Duo could easily tell was fake.

"Sure man, I'll tell him," Duo faked a smile of his own. "I'll let him know you dropped by."

"Thank you," Jerry nodded in appreciation and turned to leave. He paused, as though about to say something else, but then just smiled and walked away.

Duo watched the redheaded man make his way towards the elevator. He did not miss the stealthy glance Jerry sent his way as he departed. While others would have easily missed the wary gesture, Duo did not. He watched the man guardedly as the elevator doors closed behind him. Only then did he allow himself to scowl dangerously. He did not like the thought of strangers being so close to Heero; he did not like that _at all_. First there was the damn squirt and his bitch-of-a-mother and now a redheaded cocksucker too? No; that was unacceptable. There wasn't enough room in Heero's life for all those people. Heero was _his_ best friend and only _his_. Others should know better and keep _the Hell_ away.

_Keep your anal-licking face da fuck away, faggot,_ he warned scornfully and finally turned to close and lock the door.

Slowly, Duo turned to face the apartment again, leaning against the closed door. His eyes focused on Heero, who was lying lifelessly on the hardwood floor. He glared at him lengthily, his gaze accusing.

_You built yourself quite a cozy nest here, didn't ya Heero? Bet you just can't wait for me to leave it, but I ain't. Not until you wise up 'n realize who REALLY cares about you. I'll make you see it, Heero. I'll make you— _

A horrifying image rushed past his mind's eye; those glazed-over ocean-blue eyes were staring at him again, numb but accusing nonetheless. In a flash they were replaced by Heero's Prussian blue eyes, mortified and tormented. He recalled the man's nearly hysteric sounds of distress as he found himself being kissed against his will.

With a sharp gasp of air, Duo's sanity kicked abruptly into gear, jolting him like a bolt of lightning. In an instant Duo realized what kind of menacing thoughts were running through his head and – suddenly sensible again – the realization frightened him. The fear chased his psychosis away like a receding tide. The jealous fog which had clouded his judgment gradually diminished.

Heero seemed to have that effect on him. He felt saner when he was alone with Heero. It was how things were meant to be. That was the reason why he came to Heero in the first place. Only here would he find peace and absolution; only Heero would be willing to grant him that – that is, if he won't slipup again and screw things up like always.

_How long has he been unconscious?_ Duo wondered. _It can't be more than five or ten minutes, right?_

He recalled that it hadn't been easy reviving Heero that morning after he had fainted on a city bench. Heero must have been unconscious for quite a while then too, because it had taken Duo almost ten minutes to track and drag Chowder back to the bench. Based on that morning's incident, Heero might wake up in a matter of minutes.

"I fucked shit up again, didn't I?" Duo sighed as he bowed his head and lifted his hands up to cover his face shamefully. "I'm such fucked up piece of shit. Dammit, Heero – I didn't mean it, yanno?" he called out, a wild, desperate and tormented look in his cobalt eyes. Rational once again, his face twisted with anguish and self-reproach. His cobalt eyes shone mournfully; he was genuinely upset, begging Heero to understand.

"This shit ain't what it looks like," he whispered with a quivering voice. "It ain't like rape 'n all that crap. It really ain't. I mean, it's just a kiss and you weren't even... you weren't supposed to wake up!"

Fear and shame filled his eyes with unshed tears, threatening to overwhelm him. He felt his knees quiver weakly, about to collapse to the floor. He fought to keep himself standing, struggling to make sense of his insanely malicious act.

"This is... see, it ain't... It's not like I did back when... no. It ain't like that so just chill, okay? It's... it's not the same. I... I only wanted to... it's not the same, so you can't think I meant to do that shit to you, okay? I'll NEVER do that to you, Heero, okay? I mean, I know better now. People ain't a piece of ass 'n girls aren't there just for pussy, okay? I KNOW that, okay? I know. It's not like that so... so we're cool, right? I mean, you know me. I'm all talk no game, right? I'll never do that to you, Heero, I swear ta God I won't."

Desperate to make his words count for something, Duo reached for his cross, clutching it tightly in his fist.

"I swear to fuckin' God, Heero. I swear to everything and anything and whatever, yanno? I won't touch you that way again, okay? I know better than that now, okay? I... it was a slipup, that all. You were... I mean, you looked like you again, yanno? So I just... but it ain't like that, okay? I won't do it again. I swear ta God... Oh Jesus fucking Christ..." he whispered hopelessly and leaned his head backwards against the door, staring upwards, hoping that God might be listening, that he might understand.

"I won't do it again. It was just a kiss but I... I won't do it again."

Miserable, he turned his head aside, looking at Heero who still lay lifelessly on the floor, oblivious to his desperate apology. Turning his gaze upwards again, Duo struggled to control his inner turmoil. His fist was still curled tightly around his cross, seeking strength from the Devine.

"Oh God... just make me better already... Heero is… he's all I got so... please... don't make me do that shit again... don't make me do this to him... please..." he turned to the man, his eyes tearful. "Heero... please forgive me? We're still friends, right?"

With the only other person in the room lying unconscious on the floor, there was no one there to remind him that Heero had denied their friendship bluntly that very morning. Duo's only reply was Chowder's hoarse barking coming from behind the laundry room door.

Sighing, Duo finally stepped away from the front door and slowly walked towards Heero. He knelt by the unconscious man's side and gazed at him regretfully. Heero was lying tilted onto his side, his hands sprawled lifelessly on the floor, his head turned sideways, his messy hair falling over his closed eyes and his lips parted slightly in unconsciousness. He seemed like a broken toy, cast aside and abandoned by an uninterested child.

The man's black eyeglasses lay on the floor above his head. Shakily, Duo reached for them, folded them neatly and carefully placed them in his baggy shorts' pocket. Then, he turned back to Heero and scooped him up into his arms with great care. Holding the man cradled in his arms, Duo was sad to find out that Heero weighed close to nothing, another indication of his poor health.

He carried Heero to his bedroom and gently placed him in his bed. He arranged the young man's limp arms over his abdomen and covered him caringly with a blanket. Standing over Heero's bed, he took the man's eyeglasses out of his pocket and placed them respectfully on the nightstand. He remained by Heero's bedside for a moment longer, gazing at him lengthily.

Heero seemed better now, Duo decided. He felt as though the young man's dignity has been restored now that he was lying tucked safely in his bed. He had the urge to bend down and kiss Heero softly, as though wishing him goodnight, but he was sane enough to know better. With a heavy, burdened, sigh, Duo stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Chowder was still barking angrily behind the laundry room door; its loud howls resonated within the silent apartment, undoubtedly reaching the surrounding apartments as well. Duo couldn't afford anyone getting curious as to what was going on in the apartment. With a new sense of purpose and a clearer mind, Duo headed to the front door and snatched the dog's leash off a hanger. He marched firmly towards that utility room, took a deep breath and swung the door open.

Chowder charged at him even before he could take a step inside. The large dog attacked Duo with a vengeance, jaws ready to bite and claws ready to tear his flesh. Using skills that were more like reflexes, Duo easily overpowered the large dog and restrained it with the leash. He fetched his smokes and lighter off the windowsill and dragged the struggling animal out of the small room.

Chowder thrashed violently and tugged at its leash, trying to break away, but Duo held onto it tightly, curling the leash around his fist to shorten its length and limit the dog's wild movements. Chowder barked angrily and wailed, calling out for its owner. Duo sent a worried glance towards the closed bedroom door, afraid that Heero might wake up from the racket the damn dog was making. When he heard no sound or movement from the bedroom, he allowed himself to relax.

With much effort he dragged the large dog to the door, where a narrow drawer-dresser stood. Heero's wallet and keys lay inside a bowl on top of the dresser. Grabbing them both, Duo shoved Heero's wallet into his back pocket and stepped out of the apartment, forcefully pulling Chowder along with him.

He had to force the dog down three flights of stairs (not caring to be trapped with it inside an elevator), fighting to contain the angry beast as it tried to either attack him or run off somewhere. Finally tired of struggling with the damn beast, Duo yanked hard at its leash, nearly choking the large dog. He gave it a strong kick in the gut and tugged forcefully at the leash until the large animal finally submitted. With a sharp wail, Chowder fell silent. Keeping its head bowed submissively, the dog followed Duo out the building, limping.

Relieved that the damn animal finally quieted down and obeyed him, Duo released more of the leash and allowed Chowder to walk ahead of him. He lit up a cigarette and tried to calm down as he headed down the narrow side-street. So busy contemplating what he had just done to Heero, distracted by his efforts to rationalize and forgive his own sins, Duo was completely oblivious to the pair of green eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror of one of the cars in front of Heero's building. The driver watched him from behind a pair of golden eyeglasses. They watched as he walked the dog out into the main street.

* * *

><p>After walking down a few blocks Duo found a small urban deli. He tied Chowder's leash at the entrance and went inside – with Heero's wallet in hand – to get himself a new pack of smokes and a six pack of cold beer bottles. Then he headed back to Heero's place.<p>

When he returned, the same pair of green eyes followed him into the building, watching from within a black SUV parked in front of Heero's building. A pair of lips framed by a red beard and mustache pressed together into a wary frown. Once Duo disappeared into the building, the driver started the car. The black SUV drove away.

Duo walked into Heero's building, holding a bag of groceries in his one hand and a leash in the other. Chowder followed with its head bowed submissively. As he stepped into Heero's apartment, Duo was greeted by the distinct scent of fresh coffee. Heero was awake.

Duo released Chowder from its leash reluctantly and the dog ran quickly towards the laundry room. With a tired sigh, he followed it silently, holding the grocery bag.

Chowder headed first into the small utility room. Duo remained standing at the doorway, holding the grocery bag, afraid to go or even look inside. He had no idea what to expect of the moments to come; he did not know if Heero recalled the kiss or not.

He found Heero standing by the window inside the small room, holding a large coffee mug. The laundry room window was wide open, revealing a beautiful summer sunset stretching above the streets of Philadelphia, rich with orange, yellow, purple and pink hues. Heero stood by the window, sipping coffee from the large mug as he stared off into the horizon.

The young man had showered and changed out of his jeans and T-shirt. He was now wearing a terribly unfashionable blue men's plaid night-robe. Beneath it he was dressed in a shabby pair of plaid blue boxer shorts and a white tank top undershirt; both articles hung sloppily on his slender body, emphasizing his unhealthily skinny frame. Not for the first time Duo was forced to acknowledge that he was looking at a decrepit and enfeebled young man, clearly worn out by sickness and fatigue. And yet, rather than feeling troubled by Heero's brittle appearance, Duo found his frailty to be quite alluring, and even more so – arousing. The feeling made no real sense to him, but it still tickled pleasantly in his pants. He knew that if he wanted to, he could easily overpower Heero and force him into submission; he already had. Knowing that made him feel powerful, in control, and therefore sane; he knew that if he wanted to – Heero _will_ be his.

Of course, he had promised all that was Holy that he wouldn't, so he won't. It wouldn't be right. Still, it comforted him to know that if he chose to do so then all options were open before him. Heero would make a great fuck, of that he was certain.

_Shit man!_ He berated his own unstable thoughts. _Heero's my only pal, not another hole ta fuck! Christ, I thought we went over this already! Do you wanna go down that road again? Really? Jesus fucking Christ man – get a fuckin' hold on yourself!_

Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Duo stepped into the room, mumbling an uncertain "Hey."

"...hey," Heero whispered back. He sounded either wary or distracted, Duo wasn't sure which exactly, but it worried him. He watched Heero take a small sip from his coffee, gazing thoughtfully out the window. Chowder approached its owner and nuzzled his foot affectionately, seeking attention. Heero didn't turn to acknowledge his pet and simply kept looking out the window. Wailing sadly, Chowder pulled back and sat down, gazing up at its owner.

"Feeling better?" Duo dared to ask, choosing to pretend like nothing happened. He placed the grocery bag on the dryer to his side and took a step closer towards Heero.

Ignoring him, Heero merely sipped his hot beverage quietly. His gaze was fixed somewhere on the horizon, where a summertime sunset painted the small visible patches of sky in a beautiful display of rich warm colors. A gentle summer breeze carried the scent of flowers into the room, which otherwise reeked of dog food and cigarettes. The sound of children playing also drifted in with the wind; echoes of childish cries and laughter were coming from the yard below.

"I hope it's okay I put you in bed," Duo tried again carefully. "I took your dog out for a walk so you could rest quietly."

Heero nodded slightly but did not turn to face Duo yet. Seeing Heero's reluctance to face anything but the window, Duo began to fear that his actions were recalled clearly. He swallowed the anxious lump forming in his throat and struggled to remain composed.

Knowing Heero, Duo was certain that it wouldn't take him long to approach the subject directly. Being anything but rash, Heero's reaction would be calm and well-calculated. He will be composed and firm, cold yet considerate; he'd try to understand first and only then rule his verdict. If he'll play his cards right, Duo knew he might have a chance to get away with what he had done either way. If push came to shove, he'll make up some farfetched explanation and try to appeal to Heero's kindness; his most distinct flaw and his greatest weakness.

But for now, he decided to keep beating around the bush for as long as he could; if Heero remembered the kiss, he will soon speak about it.

Duo reached towards his grocery bag and pulled out a cool bottle of beer. Thick droplets slid down the green glass, coating the bottle with moisture much like in an inviting beer commercial.

"Want one?" he gestured with the bottle towards Heero.

The young man turned to stare numbly at the beer. After a silent moment, he resumed looking out the window, uninterested in Duo's offer.

The sound of children playing drifted from the yard below along with crickets waking to the sunset. It was interrupted by a loud 'pop!' as Duo opened the ring-pull bottle cap. Gulping down a long sip, he sighed contently; it had been _years_ since he last had a nice cold beer. While he had smuggled liquor into the prison, he had never bothered with beer (mostly because there was no way to serve it cold). Sipping his drink as though having not one care in the world, Duo approached the window as well. He placed his beer on the windowsill and took a newly bought pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Looking thoughtfully at Heero, he lighted a cigarette.

He'll be damned if he will be the one to bring anything up. He decided to wait and see what Heero might say or do. He leaned back against the washing machine behind him, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He drank and smoked while watching Heero intently.

He was standing so close to Heero that he could almost _feel_ the man's sweet body heat. He wished he could step a bit closer, but the damn dog was in the way. It was almost as if the damn beast wished to protect its owner. Chowder was sitting on the floor between Heero and him. Duo sent it a quick glare and the dog tucked its head between its paws, folding its ears timidly. Heero looked down at his pet but when he saw that nothing was wrong he returned to staring out the window, sipping his coffee contemplatively.

Duo's eyes traveled slowly up Heero's body, hungrily drinking the sight of him as his gaze trailed up Heero's bare feet, his skinny and slightly hairy legs, up to his baggy boxer shorts, to his sloppy white tank top and then down again. Despite the horrible plaid robe Heero was wearing, Duo found the young man quite appealing, perhaps exactly because he seemed so small and susceptible. The sunset light compensated for his ill and pale skin tone, washing him with a golden hue that only made him even more magnificent. His hair seemed darker, like rich chocolate, and his eyes shone faintly behind his eyeglasses, glimmering under the last rays of sunshine gradually diming behind the buildings ahead.

Eventually, Duo's eyes focused on Heero's pale pink lips. He watched them as they rested against the tip of the coffee mug, sipping the beverage, pressing gently around the tip of the mug. He wondered what it would feel like to have those same lips pressed against his dripping cock.

_Shit_, he cussed inwardly and shook his head. _Cut it out,_ he berated himself harshly and took another gulp of beer._ You make me crazy, Heero,_ he accused the man inside the relative safety of his own mind._ There's nuthin' I can do about it, yanno? It's your own fault for being all I've got. I haffta do what I can to keep you around. I can't help it. I need you so bad. Jesus. Not like that, okay? Fuck._

"Oh yeah," he started talking so he could stop thinking; "This guy came looking for you earlier," he informed Heero as casually as his anxiety allowed him. "He said I had to remind you that you still owed him a soda."

"Jerry," Heero nodded thoughtfully, "He was supposed to be here at six."

"Yeah, that's the guy. Said he was your sponsor and I figured from work. Yanno Heero, you usually have a beer with co-workers," he gestured with his beer towards Heero, "not _soda_. Where was he supposed to take you anyway?"

"To a meeting," Heero spoke with little interest. He leaned out the window a bit, looking down at the yard. The sound of children playing still echoed between the buildings surrounding the back garden.

"You need a _chauffeur_ to go to a meeting?" Duo asked skeptically. It was clear that Heero was more interested with what went on outside than what he was saying. He had a feeling that if he looked outside, he would see the damn _squirt_ among the children.

"So what gives? Why do ya need the dude to pick you up?"

"I don't drive," Heero replied matter-of-factly and straightened back up so he could sip his coffee. His manner was a bit too calm, too unconcerned and slow-paced for Duo's liking. He did not know what to make of it.

_Is he pissed off? Is he too shocked to say sumthin'? Is he about to fucking kill me without warning? What is it, man? C'mon! Speak up already!_

"But the squirt said you have a car," Duo tried to act like business as usual and kept the conversation going, while inside, he was screaming with frustration. "Plus you told me 'bout your mechanic, so what gives?"

"I don't need either anymore."

"Why not? Short on cash? It sure don't look like it to me," he said and gestured around to indicate Heero's impressive apartment.

"Not everything revolves money, Duo," Heero sighed and turned back to the window.

"Oh yeah, sure, there's also sex," Duo tried to joke, but Heero didn't take that too kindly; he sent him a short glare and resumed watching the yard below.

"What kind of a sponsor is Jerry anyway?" He asked in an attempt to keep Heero talking.

"The kind you can only drink soda with," Heero muttered and sipped more of his coffee.

"You mean no beer?" Duo deduced; "That would make him an AA Sponsor," he pointed out. Heero didn't comment on his observation and he wondered if the man's silence meant his confirmation.

"Are you fucking with me?" he exclaimed in surprise, "Or were you really a _drunk?_"

Heero took another sip of his coffee and continued gazing silently out the window.

"Okay, fine, I get it anyway." Duo sighed.

Ignoring him, Heero continued watching the game being played outside.

Taking a long sip from his beer and then an even longer drag on his smoke, Duo turned to look out the window as well. Gazing down at the yard surrounded by a block of buildings, he counted about eight children running scattered across the lawn, chasing a ball. Two mothers were sitting on a bench by the patch of grass, watching over the children and conversing. Much as he had suspected, Adriel was among the kids, although neither one of the two mothers were Marissa. The large group of children seemed to be divided into two rival groups competing for the ball; they were playing soccer. Adriel was in the lead, kicking the ball away from the rival group and towards a makeshift gate at the other side of the lawn.

"So what's the score?" Duo pretended to give a damn and took another drag of smoke, not really interested in the answer.

"Zero to one," Heero mumbled distractedly, absorbed in the game, and Duo smirked.

"No shit. In who's favor?"

"Adriel's team."

"Fuck it man, the kid's a freaking football star. You must be proud," Duo muttered smugly and cynically. Heero turned to look at him in question, as though he was unsure of what Duo meant exactly. Duo gave him a knowing smile and shrugged carelessly. Heero frowned warily, but turned to look out the window again.

Duo allowed him a few moments to watch the children play and sipped his beer quietly. He lit up a second cigarette, studying Heero thoughtfully. The man had placed his unfinished coffee mug on the windowsill, forgetting all about it for he was so absorbed in watching Adriel play. There was a strange and distant look in his blue eyes as he followed the six-year-old child running across the field until the game was over.

Duo resumed smoking quietly. He leaned over the windowsill – a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other – and watched the children say their goodbyes as they prepared to go home. The sun had already set and the evening skies were getting dark. The two mothers rose from the bench and urged the children to return to their respected apartments. His eyes focused on Adriel who was standing at the center of the yard, speaking with three of his friends. The damn squirt seemed to be quite popular with his peers.

"Yanno," Duo grunted blatantly, "I think I'd be kinda pissed if I were him," he stated and took one last sip from his beer and emptied the bottle.

Heero sighed tiredly and continued gazing out the window, sipping his coffee as though uninterested in the meaning behind Duo's statement. It was a tactic Duo knew well, so he ignored it and continued on.

"I mean, I grew up with no parents, but I think I woulda been _pissed as Hell_ if I found out they were living next door to me but never bothered tellin' me I'm their son." He threw the half-burnt-out stub into the empty beer bottle and turned to Heero, a harsh, knowing and accusing look in his cobalt eyes. "That woulda been sick, don't ya think?"

Heero stopped in mid-sip. Stiffly, he lowered the mug down. His eyes turned to study Duo carefully. Duo stared back, lifting his chin up spitefully. He sighed and broke eye contact, shifting his gaze outside again. The yard was now empty; the children had gone home.

Outside, the night sky faded from dark-blue to black with a glow of orange. A yellowish-orange halo enveloped the city of Philadelphia. The bright sky-glow obscured the stars in the night-sky from the city dwellers, but served to illuminate the small room the two were occupying. Only the brightest stars twinkled, their radiance managing to overcome the artificial night sky glow. Lights were turned on in the windows of every building on the block. In the horizon, a few tall skyscrapers could be seen; pillars of lights against the orange glow filling the Philadelphia skyline.

"So you've figured it out," Heero let out quietly; his tone on the verge of the submissive, passively accepting the fact that his secret was revealed. It was very much like Heero not to deny the facts. Lord knows he had done so during the war whenever his identity as a Gundam pilot had been jeopardized. Heero had never bothered with denial; a gun was enough to silence anyone who threatened to expose him. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Duo knew that all Heero would do was deal with it – without a gun for once. He wondered how that would turn out.

"Of course I did," Duo snorted arrogantly. "I ain't some dumb fuck yanno. Why else woulda ya let some damn _brat_ hang around ya all day?"

Heero's gaze was thoughtful and somewhat troubled as he looked down at the empty yard.

"Why didja keep it a secret in the first place?" Duo muttered angrily, "You honestly thought I won't figure it out? Don't ya trust me enough to tell me you have a _son?_ And da fuck you didn't tell the squirt he's yours?" he demanded vigorously. "What – you're good 'nough to hang out with the boy, help him do his homework 'n shit, but you ain't good 'nough to be his _father?_ What kinda sick reasoning is _that? _Shit, Heero, your past doesn't necessarily make you a monster, yanno."

"Mind your own damn business and keep out of mine." Heero hissed, glaring at Duo ruthlessly.

"It's a bit too late for that, don't ya think? I know 'bout your secret, man."

Heero's eyes widened briefly before narrowing into a frown; a cloud of anxiety shadowed his eyes for a fleeting moment. Then, he shook his head curtly and leveled his gaze with Duo's, his features darkening with a dangerous scowl.

"You know nothing." Heero's voice was stern, well-guarded and _cold_; angry, even_._

"I know that you must have a reason for hiding something this big," Duo stated arrogantly; "And I can tell that you're pretty anxious 'bout it too. You've been on edge the whole time the kid was over here. I could tell. What gives?"

Heero remained defiantly silent. He turned away, facing the window once more. He studied the lights glowing from the windows of the residential buildings ahead; his gaze was distant and upset.

"What is it you want me to say, Duo?" he finally murmured and slowly turned to face Duo; his soulful eyes imploring Duo to give him an honest answer. "What are you trying to gain by coaxing an answer out of me?"

For a moment, Duo lost his poise. Heero's intense blue eyes were bearing a hole through the very fibers of his being. There was hurt in his eyes; troubled emotions simmering under a cool surface.

"Right now all I wanna do is talk," Duo declared boldly, "I figured we could use a little honesty around here. Da fuck you ain't tellin' me, Heero?"

"You have your secrets, and I have mine," Heero muttered gravely. "Let's keep it that way until this week ends."

"Tell me why you split when the war ended," Duo blurted out before he could think twice. Something inside told him that the time for an honest confession has finally come. Something in the air was right. He had Heero in a pinch. It was time to confront some serious issues.

"Tell me why you ditched a friend like he was nothing, like we hadn't been through all that shit together."

Heero's dark blue eyes shifted towards Duo. He studied the young man quietly, his expression unreadable.

"You just took off when it was over and only came back if there was some sort of danger threatening the whole damn planet. You left MO2 without even a lousy goodbye. Just like that, like you didn't need me around anymore, unless there was some _big mission_ coming up. That wasn't what I expected, yanno? I thought you'd stick around even without battles to fight. I thought we were buddies... I thought we could start anew together, but you just... left. You left first but you still resent me for keeping my distance after all these years? That's fucked up, man."

Heero's expression turned form troubled to defiant as he glared quietly at Duo. His features were hard and unforgiving, accusing in a way. A long moment passed in tense silence. Heero studied Duo warily and Duo glowered back, resenting the accusation he saw seething silently in Heero's eyes. He felt like he was the one on trial, even though he was the one grilling Heero with difficult questions. It made no sense and so his anger simmered as well.

"Yanno," he grunted angrily, crossing his arms over his chest; "I came here thinking you must be pissed I took off without a word after that whole Mariemaia thing, but yanno what – you _deserved _it. I take it back – I'm _not_ sorry for splitting on you like the others did. You said I can't be a friend to you – well _fuck_ that! _You_ were the one who decided to break things off!"

If he didn't know any better, Duo would have suspected that a crack had just formed in Heero's iron mask and an elusive trickle of hurt sipped through the fracture. Heero shifted his weight from side to side just slightly, before his posture tensed and he regained a cool and defiant composure, thus confirming Duo's suspicions – if Heero was going on the defensive, then he was actually getting through to him.

"I will say this, though," he continued haughtily; pleased with his breakthrough. "I _am _sorry that it didn't work out, that we couldn't be buddies without the war raging on. We used to rely on each other and it woulda made things easier if we kept sticking up for each other during peacetime too, yanno? Believe it or not, back then, everything was new to me too. I know you thought I had it all figured out, but that was bullshit." He sighed, shrugging helplessly. "Anyway, I'm trying to let bygones be bygones, okay? That's why I'm here now, Heero, and that's the honest to God truth. I'm back to square one and you're all I've got."

For a long awkward moment, Heero observed him mutely. Then, he lowered his gaze to stare at the floor.

"You're asking for my friendship again," he mumbled dazedly, as though suddenly realizing where the conversation was going. Duo had never seen distress in Heero's eyes, but as God was his witness, he could have sworn that Heero was actually appalled by the concept.

"I can't," he stated simply, shaking his bowed head. "We can't be friends."

"Da fuck not?" Duo exclaimed, hurt.

"Why are you so persistent?" Heero called back, obviously upset. "You could always make friends wherever you went. Why can't you just move on? It's been over a decade, Duo, so just let it go. We weren't able to rebuild our lives together and that's that. I can't be your 'square one'. Go rebuild your life elsewhere... and leave me out of it."

"You can't be mad at me for splittin' – because _you_ were the first to leave! I had to track you down after MO2 and I _know_ that you didn't want to be found – because it was damn _hard_ finding you! Then when shit was over you went AWOL again! You were the one who stopped caring – so I did too! God dammit – don't pin this one on me! I fucking _hate _the way you look at me now – like I screwed you somehow! I ain't the one who fucked you up, Heero – life did! You even think you'll make a shitty father and that ain't got nuthin' to do with me! You can't be blaming me for shit! I ain't done you no wrong!"

"_You!_" Heero huffed angrily, panting with rage. "You have no idea wha—" he quickly caught himself from completing the sentence. His features turned red with suppressed fury. His blue eyes gleamed coldly as he glared wrathfully at Duo, speaking accusations he could never convey verbally. His Prussian blue eyes were full of resentment and contempt. The hateful gaze had Duo pinned to his spot, unable to move or even breathe. Never in his life had he encountered such abhorrence; not even on that first day in court when the officers guided him into the hall and he met Quatre's eyes for the first time since—

Duo sighed heavily and bowed his head down.

A heavy silence filled the small utility room; so thick the air felt like solid rock. The two young men stood facing each other, their eyes refusing to meet. Long moments ticked by slowly as feelings were sorted out. When he heard Heero take a deep breath and release it with a long sigh, Duo finally dared to look up again. He lifted his head to send a hesitant glance towards the other man. He was surprised to find Heero looking at him calmly. The young man's features were cool and composed when he finally spoke:

"There's... a lot you don't know," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Circumstances have changed;" he sighed. "There's no going back. I'm sorry."

His quiet tone was so terribly grave and carried a heavy sense of finality. Duo could not offer any more arguments.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked shakily, quivering with a dreadful sense of forbiddance and unfathomable shame.

"You're hiding something from me... like you're hiding from your son. What's so terrible that you have to keep all these secrets?"

"This discussion is over," Heero stated wearily and turned to leave the small laundry room. Chowder roes on all four, ready to follow him out the door. "I have work to catch-up on."

He left along with Chowder, leaving Duo standing by the window as he closed the door behind him. For a while, Duo just gaped at the closed door, trying to make sense of his first earnest conversation with Heero in over ten years. Despite the difficult talk, he was none the wiser. Frustrated, he sighed and turned back to face the window, reaching for another beer and a smoke.

Neither of them was willing to be completely honest with the other. Duo feared that the one week grace period Heero had offered will end up being nothing but a final nail to an already sealed coffin. When the week is over, Heero will ask him to leave and that will be a final goodbye. It seemed that Heero will not be his after all, and that was unacceptable.

**To be continued in Chapter 06: Déjà vu:**

"You shouldn't have said that," Duo's voice came out in a cold, detached monotone. "I've warned you," he hissed dangerously.

oOoOo

"You pathetic _dog,_" Duo mocked cruelly. "I can rip your _freaking balls_ _off_ and you won't be able to do a thing about it!"

oOoOo

Duo's eyes widened in surprise when Heero raised his arm up and pointed the gun at him instead. [...]

"Déjà vu," Heero whispered, panting frenziedly through clenched teeth, his angry eyes never breaking eye contact with Duo, who stood before him unmoving, gawking at him in morbid fascination.

Neither young man dared to move. They merely glowered at each other tensely. Then, Duo smirked.

"Are you actually going to shoot me this time, Heero, or should I just call your bluff again?"

oOoOo

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Your review will be most appreciated.

Elle


	8. Chapter 06: Deja vu

**Author's Note:**

A review left for the previous chapter got me thinking perhaps other readers might feel the same way, so I would like to take a moment to say that I am truly sorry if I have offended anyone's religious beliefs. Duo's sick thoughts certainly don't reflect my own beliefs (and, to be fair, they don't even reflect what Duo truly thinks because he is so demented at this stage of the story). I am not a Christian, and for the past few years I have been leaning more towards atheism, but I do have the utmost respect to what others choose to believe. Please bear in mind that by writing offensive words about Duo's faith, I am simply being true to the character I chose to write. I deeply apologize if this characterization has hurt anyone in any way. In later chapters, I will take a kinder and more positive approach to faith, God and solace found in religion.

Sincerely,  
>Elle<p>

* * *

><p><strong>One Week - Part 820**

**Chapter 06: Déjà vu**

Late that night, after finishing his work load for the day, Heero threw a set of clean sheets, a pillow and a blanket on the sofa and retired to his bedroom for the night. Chowder followed him in and Heero closed the door behind them both, leaving Duo alone in the living room.

Duo made his bed – cussing the uncomfortable leather sofa – and then lay on it for hours, watching mind-numbing television. At some point during the night he ordered pizza and paid for it with the money from Heero's wallet in the bowl by the door. He ate more than half a box of pizza, finished the rest of the beer bottles and then finally fell asleep with the TV on, snoring loudly.

He dreamt of wartime. His dream took him back to one of the few peaceful moments he had experienced during the war. He dreamt of rain tapping loudly on a dorm-room window as a storm raged through the night. Heero and he were in-between missions, laying low while waiting for further orders from their superiors. It was a long wait, so they enrolled under false names in some boy's-only boarding school somewhere on the coast of France. They were merely a couple of months into the Operation and knew each other just barely enough to offer wary trust. The two weeks they spent in that boarding school changed that. Without battles to plan or wage, they were basically just two fifteen-year-old boys going to school. Their loose bond benefitted from the quiet time, and tightened.

The rain was coming down hard and thunder roared loudly. It was late at night and the electricity was out due to the storm. Candles illuminated their room with a dim orange light. Heero was sitting on the floor by his bed, dressed in a warm black track-suit and white socks smudged with black streaks of grease. He was cleaning his pistol, which was laid disassembled in front of him, covered in a glossy layer of grease. He too was sitting on the carpeted floor, holding a small sidearm in his fist. He was only pretending to be cleaning it as he watched Heero go through the motions. He had his earphones on, listening to loud Death Metal music.

Duo watched his partner's slim, long fingers reach for a small metal piece and carefully wipe it with a flannel cloth. Those firm and agile digits seemed to better suit a pianist than a killer; maybe in another lifetime, though.

Lightning flashed blindingly and thunder rolled from a distance. Heero was now sitting right in front of him. They sat in the middle of the room, facing each other, shadows dancing across their faces as the candles burnt into the night. There was a single gun on the floor between them, gleaming under the soft light. They looked at each other tensely, never breaking eye contact as Duo reached a hand for the gun.

He spun it around and the pistol circled itself for a while before it halted, the barrel pointing at Heero. Duo looked up. Heero's soulful Prussian blue eyes were aimed straight at him, burning fiercely. His expression was stony, guarded and cautious, but his eyes shone like a crackling fire, moving to the rhythm of an ancient forgotten tune.

Slowly, Heero picked up the gun. He aimed it at Duo. A dark, cynical smile twisted Duo's face as he smirked at the other teenage boy.

Their game was a Russian roulette of a different kind, where bullets were replaced with questions. It was their own version of the popular "Truth or Dare" game, only the gun decided who was to ask the question rather than who was to answer. The game was a way of getting to know each other, however reluctantly, at gun-point. There was a certain element of thrill, since the gun was always cocked and loaded. The hours they spent playing into the night sure beat those dead hours Duo usually spent smoking pot with fellow dorm-members. Marijuana was dull and mind-numbing. Getting to know the person hidden behind the mask of a _"Perfect Soldier"_ was exhilarating in a gut-twisting, heart-wrenching sort of way. It was addictive as the drugs he had abused on the streets of L2.

Heero was the one holding the pistol, so by their rules, it was up to Heero to choose whether he wished to obligate Duo by Truth, or by Dare.

The downpour hammered loudly against the window. The glass rattled as a deep rumbling thunder bombarded the heavens.

"Truth," Heero finally chose and leveled the gun at Duo's head. "Just tell me the truth."

"You first," Duo retorted spitefully; "You're the one keeping _secrets_ from everybody."

"You already know my truth," Heero whispered wretchedly.

Duo frowned. "I do?"

Now he was the one holding the gun, aiming at Heero.

Another lightning struck. The candles extinguished abruptly and the room fell into a thick black darkness.

A shot was fired; it echoed loudly within a large, metal-cased void.

Duo gasped and jumped up to his feet, panicked.

There was something hot and heavy in his hand. He looked down, and saw a smoking gun. Only it wasn't a gun. It was a _knife_; a bloody jagged military knife: his folding combat knife. Alarmed, he quickly let go of the knife and it fell to the floor with a loud, resonate metallic clank. He shuddered; mortified. He thought he knew where he was; only he didn't... and it scared him.

"Heero?" he called anxiously into the darkness. "Heero? Where did you go? What happened to you?"

Eerie silence filled the dark void around him. Then, somewhere in the distance, a tiny sliver of light appeared, slicing through the dark fiber of his subconscious. Something emerged from the bright slit, slipping into the black emptiness. It was a small and square-shaped silver body, gleaming faintly under the light filtering through the bright white tear. It was an aluminum-foil bag – space rations.

Numerous slashed tore into the void one by one, appearing rapidly, slicing through the darkness as more and more of the rations filled the black space, floating in a menacing formation towards Duo.

There was much light pouring into the dark void now that so many bright-white tears had been formed. Compelled to look around him, Duo turned to face the other way. There, under a small window overlooking the Earth and space, he finally found his friend – the adolescent boy codenamed Heero Yuy. The teenage boy was lying sprawled lifelessly on the cold metal floor, face down, surrounded by a pool of blood.

The jagged knife was in Duo's hand again. He could feel his fist wrapped tightly around the familiar object and he knew – he had done this to Heero. Just like he had— The judge hit the gavel and Duo whirled around, eyes wide with shock. All he could see was the hate and fury in Quatre's blue eyes as the verdict was executed and he was dragged away to be locked behind bars.

He awoke with a shuddering gasp. It was morning and he was lying on the uncomfortable leather sofa in Heero's apartment.

Heero wasn't dead; Duo could hear him in the kitchen, making coffee. Slowly, he sat up and sent a tentative glance towards the kitchen. He saw Heero standing by the kitchen bar, wearing a dark colored business suit over a blue dress shirt and a dark-blue tie. He was holding a coffee mug in one hand and a newspaper in the other, his eyes scanning the headlines from behind his black eyeglasses. The steaming coffee fogged the lenses as he took a small sip.

_It was only a nightmare_; Duo reminded himself in an attempt to shake off the terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He threw the covers aside and rose from the uncomfortable sofa.

Heero sent him a quick glance from behind the newspaper and then looked back down again. Duo ignored the brisk once-over. He was still upset at how things had ended the night before. The nightmare certainly didn't help. He was in a foul mood and didn't care much for concealing it. Judging by Heero's gesture, Duo assumed that Heero wasn't in the best of moods either.

Yawning widely, he headed for the bathroom, scratching his crotch vulgarly. He slammed the door behind him angrily and turned on the faucet above the sink on full blast, washing his face. He was sweaty and smelly after a night spent thrashing uncomfortably on the sofa, fighting off dark feelings and guilt of unknown origin. Their conversation in the laundry room has left Duo feeling like he was the one at fault, even though he had come to the conclusion that Heero was the one who chose to end their friendship. He tried to play the prosecutor, only to end up as the defendant.

It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. He should have made Heero his friend by now, but instead all he got was a resentful affirmation of their failed relationship. Damn it. Why did it matter to him so damn much? He tried, Heero said 'no', so he should leave. Why was he insisting on begging for forgiveness like a poor, spineless, cheating spouse? He didn't care – he _shouldn't_ care. He should just move on – but he couldn't! Heero was all he had. He was all he had now. It was either Heero or falling back into the habit and ending up doing God knows what.

It was either Heero or nothing.

Heero or nothing.

Heero or...

Duo yanked the medicine cabinet open in hopes in search of... well, something he shouldn't even look for. It was all he could think of, though. He needed something to help him relax. He needed to get his shit back together if he wanted to keep his cool around Heero and beer was just not going to cut it anymore.

Much to his disappointment, he found the medicine cabinet nearly empty. Only a few lone bottles of shaving cream, cologne and deodorant stood inside on an otherwise empty shelf. The orange pill containers he had seen there before were gone; Heero must have hidden them, foolishly believing that he hadn't seen them yet.

It was probably for the best, Duo supposed and sighed heavily. He slammed the medicine cabinet shut. His reflection scowled at him from the mirror-door, grim and angry. He stared himself down, glaring at his reflection as he tried to muster the mental strength to berate himself for even considering drugs again. It was pointless; he knew deep down that if the medication had been there, he would have been gulping down anti-psychotics by now.

Frustrated and furious, Duo stomped out of the bathroom with a sour expression on his worn-out face. Heero was now standing by his desk, packing a bunch of notes and folders into an elegant leather business bag. Chowder was standing by his side, wagging its tail. Much to Duo's dismay, it seemed that ever since the "accidental kiss", the damn dog refused to be more than a feet away from its owner.

Heero opened a drawer and pulled out a small cell phone, tucking it into his suit's pocket. While the suit's dark color didn't flatter Heero's pale complexion much, it nevertheless gave off quite an impressive visage. The blazer must have had shoulder pads in it, for it gave Heero the illusion of having broader and less sloping shoulders; thus giving his skinny torso a bulkier, manlier, appearance compared to the frail body it hid underneath.

The bright morning light pouring from the living room window compensated for Heero's pale skin tone by making it glow. Washed by this white halo, Heero seemed almost ethereal; his chocolate-brown hair shone healthily and his blue eyes gleamed behind the shelter of his black eyeglasses. Unlike the night before, when he had walked around in a shabby robe and an ashen, haggard, face, Heero's appearance was now well-groomed and almost refreshed. Duo could even detect the light scent of cologne in the air and he wondered what the Hell was going on.

_He better not be heading to another hot-date with that redheaded faggot,_ Duo grumbled to himself. _Or worse – is he going to see that Latin bitch again? He ain't gonna beg her to see his kid again today, is he? Shit. _The last thing he needed was the damn brat coming between him and Heero again.

"Looking sharp," he remarked, fishing for information; "Where are you off to so damn early?"

"I have a meeting," Heero replied quietly and closed his business bag. He took another swift look around the desk, making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Like you had last night?" _With that damn fancy faggot?_ Duo scowled dangerously. Heero paused his search of the desk and turned to Duo, frowning. It took him a moment to realize Duo was referring to the meeting he had missed last night when he had fainted and Jerry came over.

"No," he finally said and returned to scanning the desk for anything that might have been forgotten.

"Oh, I get it – it's like a fancy meeting with the big guns, right?"

"Yes," Heero murmured distractedly as he noticed that he had forgotten one folder on the desk and reached to put it in the bag as well. "If all goes well, I might sign a deal with one of the largest high-tech companies in the city. It's quite a profitable contract."

"Well, aren't we the successful businessman..." Duo muttered acidly.

Heero turned to look at Duo sternly. "With rent and child support to pay each month, I cannot afford not to be successful," he rebuked Duo's belittling comment. "This is the real world, Duo, where you have to work hard for your income, so get over yourself and start looking for a damn job. Don't assume I'm going to let you sponge off of me for more than a week, you're a burden as it is." He gestured at the empty beer bottles and open pizza box full of half eaten slices left on the coffee table.

"Shit man, would you _relax_?" Duo grumbled, "I said I'll get on it today, okay? Christ, Heero, cut me some slack here, will ya? I just got outta—I just got here two days ago!"

Heero frowned, apparently trying to figure out what Duo was about to say before correcting himself. He looked at him lengthily and Duo stared back, glaring. Finally, Heero chose to ignore Duo's hostile attitude and turned back to the desk, checking if he had forgotten anything else.

"Search the web for local wanted ads," Heero spoke in a business-like manner as he scanned his desk. "See what you can find and make some calls." He gestured at the cordless phone by the computer monitor.

"Wait a minute man," Duo frowned, "You said you were gonna talk to that guy for me."

"What guy?" Heero turned to him, clearly annoyed.

"The garage guy!" Duo called irritably; "Remember?"'

"What _'garage guy'_?" Heero snapped petulantly.

For a moment, Duo just gawked at Heero, unable to believe that they were having the same conversation for a second time in two days. Heero promised to speak with his mechanic merely twenty four hours ago. He had already forgotten about it the day before, when he told Duo to stop watching TV and start searching for a job, and now he forgot about it _again?_

Duo sighed and tried to be patient as he spoke. "Your mechanic, Heero! You said you'll talk to him 'bout hiring me."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did! Yesterday – when we were walking your damn dog!"

_The squirt wasn't shittin' me, _Duo realized;_ The dude's a fucking senile! That's why he didn't remember the kiss. Am I really this fucking lucky? I wonder what else he might be able to forget..._

A thought, perhaps a memory of a dream, grazed the edges of his subconscious. Like a falling feather, it hovered faintly over the darkest regions of his mind.

_'...I'Ll JuSt...' _

_'...FoRgEt...'_

The small, distant and jumbled whisper echoed deep within his mind, barely surfacing above his subconscious, forever trapped in the void between the subliminal and the cognizant. The whisper was there, but it was never acknowledged, leaving him ignorant to the fact that the whispering voice was in fact Heero's.

"You promised you'd help me find a job," he reminded Heero, sighing.

"I know that!" Heero snapped crossly. "I intend to do that, but I—"

"Want me to look at some wanted ads," Duo finished the sentence for him, tired of listening to the same old tune. "Yeah, I know. Jesus Heero, you sound like a damn broken record."

"I'm only letting you stay here for a week," Heero reminded him irritably. "Don't assume you can sweet-talk me into letting you stay longer."

Duo snorted insolently. "Sweet-talk? Get real, man. I ain't got a sweet bone in me."

"Nevertheless," Heero muttered, finally turning to face Duo again; "You only have a few more days left. I suggest you make the most of them."

"You really want me outta here, don't ya?" Scowling, Duo crossed his arms over his chest and stiffened his pose, trying to look intimidating.

Heero did not reply, however the look in his eyes said it all.

"Jesus man! And here I thought you were at least willing to help out an old friend. Yanno, for old times' sake... maybe as a gesture for putting up with your snotty ass all through shit."

Heero stared at him mutely. The look in his eyes suggested that he wished to say something, but his lips remained sealed. Eventually, he sighed resignedly and looked back down at his briefcase, closing it a second time.

"You were the unbearable one," he muttered quietly under his breath and prepared to walk to the door.

Duo laughed bitterly. "Yeah, okay, _right_. _I _was the one people had to keep an eye on or they'll do something crazy. _Sure._ I looked out for you and you _know_ it! The least you can do is show me a little courtesy here, okay!"

"_Shut up, Duo!_" Heero snapped angrily; "When have I _ever_ turned my back on you!?" he demanded; his Prussian blue eyes were wild and wrathful. "I got you out of there, didn't I?! I wasn't supposed to, but I did!"

"Say what!" Duo barked, flabbergasted and therefore furious. "Outta fucking where!?"

There was a sudden feverish look is Heero's eyes. He seemed frantic beyond reason; in fact, he almost seemed dazed.

"You never take anything seriously," he spoke quietly, weakly, before his eyes filled with anger and he found the strength to raise his voice again. "Everything is a joke to you! It's no wonder you got caught!"

"Caught?" Duo was beginning to panic. Was Heero talking about how he got shipped off to prison? Did he know? But... but Heero wasn't the one who got him out of the slammer; he had the parole board to thank for that one. What the Hell was Heero talking about then? What the fuck were they fighting about anyway? Heero wasn't making any sense!

"Da fuck are you babbling about!" he called, "Are you going _mental_ on me? Jesus Christ, man! Take your meds or sumthin'! What the Hell does this shit have to do with anything?"

"_Everything!_" Heero shouted back; "Can't you see? I had no choice but to help you, Duo! You were my only friend! And I—I— letting you stay here – that's a final gesture – okay? I can't do more. _I can't!_"

"I don't ge—" Duo had intended on finishing the sentence, but something in him just snapped at hearing Heero's argument and the words got caught in his throat. He stilled, all the fury draining out of him, venting out like poisonous gas. He stood there, eerily silent and unmoving.

Heero stilled as well, like a deer caught in the headlights. He fell silent, the color fading from his cheeks. He stared at Duo with wide, startled, eyes.

The silence stretched on, threatening to snap.

Chowder started to growl in a low, dangerous tone, responding to the menace it sensed in the room. Heero turned to look at his pet and the realization of something horrible gradually became apparent on his face. His whole body stiffened.

The dog barked once, and Duo blinked, consciousness returning to his eyes.

Chowder barked twice, and Heero whirled his head around to look up at Duo. Dark cobalt eyes glared back at him, glowering darkly. Duo stood tensely before him, his fists clenched angrily, his lips pressed tautly and his breathing heavy, labored with fury.

"You shouldn't have said that," Duo's voice came out in a cold, detached monotone. "I've warned you," he hissed dangerously.

Heero took a step back, bumping with the desk behind him. When he realized he had nowhere to go, he looked up at Duo; his expression strained to remain stony even while his eyes gleamed with distress.

"Duo... I misspoke," he said hurriedly, almost panicked; "I didn't meant to—" he wasn't even able to finish his argument before Duo charged at him. Heero crashed against the wooden desk, knocking the flat-screen monitor forcefully against the window.

The glass cracked, threatening to shatter.

Chowder howled loudly and dashed at Duo, exposing its sharp fangs as it aimed to bite Duo's leg. But Duo was faster. He kicked the large dog straight in the chest, throwing it back against the coffee table. Both the dog and table were thrown back across the room, until they collided with the leather armchair.

Duo whirled around to face the desk again. Heero was just about to push himself off of it, so Duo swung his leg up and kicked him too – straight in the gut.

Heero let out a loud painful groan. The kick was hard. It sent him crashing back against the computer monitor once more. He curled in pain and clutched his abdomen. He was leaning heavily against the fallen monitor, pushing it harder against the cracked window. When he tried to move away, Duo kicked him again, sending him flying back forcefully.

The damaged glass couldn't take the pressure and broke. The monitor fell through, plunging down from the third floor and onto the sidewalk below. Heero barely managed to sit up before he fell as well. He only got a glimpse of the monitor shattering loudly against the pavement before he was yanked forward by Duo and thrown forcefully to the floor.

Office supplies went flying right along with him. He crashed face down onto the hardwood floor and immediately rolled over, raising his arms up to protect himself from another attack as Duo stormed at him again.

They struggled, rolling and quarrelling on the floor. Heero fought to push Duo off of him. It was a useless struggle. His technique was flawless; his retaliation was skillful and precise, however, it was strength he lacked. Duo on the other hand, fought messily and with pure brutal force. He overpowered Heero easily and pinned him to the floor, face down. He climbed on top of him and straddled the young man, locking his legs tightly around Heero's waist, preventing him from escaping. Still, Heero resisted, thrashing uselessly.

Duo grabbed him by a fistful of hair, pulled his head back forcefully and threw it back just as fast to the floor. Heero released a silent groan. He struggled to get up, trying to use his arms as leverage to push off the floor and throw Duo off of him, but his strength was hardly a match for Duo's, who pushed down against him. Heero crashed flatly against the floor with a short yelp.

Chowder dashed at Duo again, clawing at its owner's assailant with sharp paws. He tore through Duo's clothes, scraping his flesh and drawing blood.

Enraged, Duo flung his fist to punch the damn canine, but Chowder used the opportunity to sink its teeth in Duo's forearm.

Duo screamed madly. He shook his arm – still caught between the dog's clenched jaws – and struggled to break his hand free.

He rose off of Heero and attacked the damn dog. He kicked the large beast until it let go of his arms and tried to bite his leg instead.

"FUCK!" Duo screamed as his leg was bitten as well. He jumped back, pressing his bleeding arm against his chest. "Fucking beast!" he cussed furiously and kicked the dog sharply in the gut.

The large dog tried to bite Duo's already bleeding leg, but this time Duo was ready for it. Using his first leg as bait, he raised his other leg up and kicked Chowder on the top of its head just as he was about to bite his immobile leg. The blow was hard and direct; the dog was unconscious in a second.

"Fucking _bitch!_" Duo cussed loudly, holding his bleeding forearm pressed against his chest. His black tank top was soaked with blood. "Fuck!" he grunted and tore it off. He wrapped it swiftly around his bleeding wound and gave the unconscious dog another kick for good measure.

The pain in his arm and leg sent jolts of awareness through every corner of his mind. He gasped painfully and took a few steps back, staring with wide eyes at the unconscious dog lying at his feet.

"Oh shit," he breathed in slight panic. Heero was going to _kill him_ for hurting the damn beast. Then, as he turned, he saw the young man lying on the floor, face down, his arms sprawled lifelessly at his sides and surrounded by a pile of fallen office supplies. His business bag lay at one side of the room, as though thrown there. His eyeglasses had been thrown all the way across the other side of room. The young man seemed to be unconscious.

Duo gaped, slack-jawed. Did Heero faint again? He didn't recall such a thing. In fact... he couldn't quite recall anything that happened these past few moments...

He noticed the broken window, the mess on the desk and the missing computer monitor. It looked like a struggle had taken place. Why—how—when? He did not remember. A moment ago he was asking Heero about that meeting he was going to... then what happened? All he could remember was Heero talking all crazy and shit, and then... nothing.

This wasn't the first time he had black out like this. Blackouts were just another long-lasting effect of the years he had spent as an addict. His mind was screwed up in too many ways for him to keep track of... Missing a few minutes of his life was not that uncommon. But still – what could have triggered such a blackout? What happened? Well, whatever it was – Duo had to make it go away before Heero woke up.

"Heero?" he dared to whisper his name. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, wary of approaching the unconscious young man. Kneeling down by Heero's side, Duo placed a hand on his shoulder and carefully turned him around so that he lay on his back. Much like the last time Heero had fainted, Duo felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of the young man's exposed and vulnerable features. He was so handsome; too good looking for his own damn good. Heero had always been physically appealing, but never approachable. Now, Heero's helpless state added to his appeal by a tenfold. The way he laid lifelessly before him, defenseless and frail, his soft hair falling over his eyes so delicately, his lips agape so invitingly... the sight was so erotic that the strong need to abuse and possess awoke in Duo's loins. He struggled to ignore it and instead tried to focus on aiding the young, painfully stunning and alluringly susceptible man.

"Heero?" he whispered the man's name warily, shaking him lightly. There was no response. Duo wasn't sure he wanted Heero to wake up yet. Perhaps he should get rid of the evidence first; evidence of what exactly – he wasn't sure, but it would be better to clean the place up first. Perhaps Heero's senility would work to his advantage again.

The first thing he did was to drag the unconscious canine into the laundry room and close the door behind it. His leg was still bleeding from the shallow bite the damn dog had delivered and when he turned away from the laundry room door, he saw that he had left a trail of blood all the way from the living room to the kitchen. Cussing, he picked up a kitchen towel, soaked it in water and hurried to wipe the blood off the polished hardwood floor. His arm was still wrapped in his tank top, which was already drenched with blood. The wound was still bleeding as Duo worked, shirtless, to clean the floor. His large silver cross dangled over his naked chest, bearing silent witness to his deeds.

"Feels like I've already been to this movie, yanno?" Duo muttered sarcastically, glancing at Heero to make sure that the man was still unconscious. "I tell ya, Quatre shoulda been thankful I actually bothered to clean the blood off his fancy floor..." he joked cynically, even though he was the only one capable of understanding the joke (which was in essence, not funny at all). He paused to stare at Heero. He felt like a criminal again. He tried to tell himself that he had done anything wrong, but something deep inside insisted on telling him otherwise.

By the time he was done, the kitchen towel was also completely soaked with blood. Sighing, he stood up heavily, holding the bloody towel in one hand and clutching his injured forearm against his chest. He walked over to the garbage dispenser and threw away the blood soaked towel. Now all he had to do was clean up the mess in the living room and rearrange the desk. It would hardly seem like nothing had happened, but it would make it easier for him to make a lame excuse for the remaining damage.

He had just finished pushing the coffee table and armchair back to place when suddenly, he heard Heero let out a small moan. He whirled around quickly to face him, his eyes wide and fearful. The young man was showing signs of waking up.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Duo mumbled anxiously. If Heero woke up and saw the mess and his arm bleeding like a dead giveaway— he didn't even waste the time thinking about it. As always, he had to be quick on his feet.

He fell to his knees in front of Heero and pressed his bloody hand hard over his mouth and nose, blocking his airways. The young man, who hadn't even opened his eyes yet, still barely on the verge of consciousness, gave out another, muffled, distressed moan into the bloody palm of Duo's hand. He pressed down harder.

Heero's fingers twitched. Despite being suffocated, he was still waking up.

Duo climbed on top of the young man quickly, straddling his hips. He leaned down, applying more pressure over Heero's airways. The strain caused his right arm to bleed harder; blood gushed out of the wound, pouring down his forearm, leaking from underneath the bloody black tank top wrapped around the wound. The blood trickled onto the palm of Duo's hand, oozed between his fingers and streamed gently down Heero's face. It looked like he was shedding tears of blood.

A pair of Prussian blue eyes snapped wide open – full of awareness and alarm. Heero moaned anxiously into Duo's bloody hand. He writhed beneath the burlier man, struggling to push Duo off of him. He flung both his hands up desperately, clutching Duo's bloody forearm in a useless attempt to move his muscular arm away. When he realized that his attempt was proving futile, he locked his gaze with Duo's, his eyes looking up in a silent plea, waiting for Duo to snap out of his madness and cease his lethal actions.

Duo stared blankly at Heero, drowning in the sight of his beautifully fearful blue eyes. A nostalgic feeling coated his heart warmly. He recalled seeing that same panicked look in Heero's eyes before. When exactly, he wasn't sure; and yet, he felt that they had struggled like this before. He recalled the terror he had seen in Heero's eyes. He recalled his desperate moaning, his hurt and anguish. The memories aroused him; he felt himself harden at the excitement. He pressed down harder, smirking at Heero.

"Déjà vu," he leered at the helpless young man writhing beneath him. He watched with great pleasure as Heero's eyes widened even more, horrified. A sudden renewed surge of strength coursed through him; a burst of panicked adrenaline which enabled Heero to struggle once more. He broke his head free of Duo's suffocating hand and earned a few precious gasps for air. However his resistance was cut short. Duo subdued him quickly and continued pressing hard against his airways. His possessed eyes drank the sight of his suffocation hungrily.

"You really have become pathetic," he murmured manically. "Look at you, ya damn _mutt_, you can't even fight me off." He sneered at Heero; a sick, twisted kind of smirk. "It looks like your bark is stronger than your bite."

Beneath him, Heero ceased his struggle. He stilled, as though overcome by some unseen force. He remained pinned underneath Duo, unmoving, staring numbly at his attacker.

"You pathetic _dog,_" Duo mocked cruelly. He smirked as he reached a second hand behind his back. "I can rip your freaking balls off and you won't be able to do a thing about it!" He closed his fist tightly around the fleshy bulge he found under Heero's pants and yanked it forcefully.

"Mumff!" Heero yelped into the palm of Duo's hand and his whole body jolted up by reflex. Duo squeezed his thighs tighter around the young man's waist, preventing him of rising more than an inch off the floor and he jerked the limp flesh once more, laughing madly. All the while, his other hand was pressed tightly against the young man's airways.

Heero's eyes shifted around the room frantically. His body remained immobilized underneath Duo. All he could manage was to shake his head forcefully from side to side in a useless attempt to move away from the hand that was suffocating him.

Duo felt him muffle something unintelligible into the palm of his hand. He smirked. Heero's last breath was hot against Duo's bloody palm; it tingled pleasurably on his skin. He sneered darkly at his helpless victim.

"I could fucking jump you right now," he informed his prey slyly. His hand was still fondling Heero's limp manhood through the fabric of his suit-pants. "I'd fuck you 'til you bleed, but you'll cry for more!" he laughed and Heero's eyes widened frightfully.

"You'd like that, won't you, Heero?" Duo jeered him;_ "Won't you!?_" He squeezed him violently and Heero moaned pitifully; his eyes rolling back into his head. Soon, the Prussian blue orbs glazed over as his oxygen reserves depleted. His pale skin was turning a bluish shade. Duo felt like he too was suffocating, but his hand would not budge. He realized that he was killing Heero, but something inside of him refused to let go, keeping his hand in place, forcing him to push down even harder against Heero's mouth and nose.

He watched, strangely detached, as Heero's eyelids slowly fluttered shut as he lost consciousness once more. He felt the young man go limp underneath him.

Then, the front door was kicked open.

Duo jerked his hand back and jumped up to his feet.

On the floor, Heero gasped and gulped for air.

Duo whirled around just in time to see the redheaded faggot _Jerry_ rush into the apartment, aiming a gun at him:

"PREVENTER! FREEZE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

Stunned, Duo stared at the redheaded man storming into the apartment. He was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and black T-shirt, but the pistol in his hand was enough to convince Duo that the person in front of him was indeed a Preventer agent. Due to the government's anti-militaristic regulations, only Preventers were allowed to carry weapons, and Duo took guns _very _seriously.

He moved his arms up warily. He kept his gaze locked on Jerry as he put his hands behind his head. The bloody tank top he had wrapped around his wound loosened and fell to the floor, exposing the bleeding bite mark. His blood streamed down his raised arm, dripping down onto the fallen tank top. He stood, shirtless, his hands behind his head, glaring at the redheaded man aiming a gun at him.

"Step away from Hiro," Jerry commanded coldly as he stomped into the apartment, heading towards the semi-conscious young man lying by the desk.

Duo did as asked, moving two very slow steps to the side.

Down on the floor, Heero coughed and wheezed loudly. His eyes remained closed as he turned his head from side to side, gasping hoarsely for air. A large bloody handprint was smeared across his mouth and nose – evidence of Duo's crime.

Jerry hurried to Heero's side, kneeling down next to him while keeping his pistol aimed at Duo.

"Hiro," he called the young man's name softly, "Are you alright?"

Coughing, Heero struggled to sit up. Jerry helped him by offering his free hand.

Duo watched the two intently, not daring to make even a slightest move while having a pistol aimed at him. He could try to jump at the agent and snatch the gun away; he could probably apprehend the pistol quite easily, but he chose to do as ordered. He needed to see what Heero's reaction might be.

Jerry helped Heero to his feet; both his harsh green eyes and his gun aimed at Duo the whole time. Heero rose shakily, supported by Jerry. His coughing had mostly subsided, but his breathing was labored and raspy, interrupted by a small bursting cough every now and then. He let go of Jerry's helping hand and leaned back against the desk for support instead.

"Are you okay?" Jerry asked again, watching Heero with concern. Heero nodded his head repeatedly. Duo watched numbly as the young man raised a shaky hand to wipe the blood off his face and felt his heart sink painfully. It was his bloody handprint Heero was wiping away. He had hurt Heero, and while he could only vaguely recall his actions, he knew that he had done the unthinkable. Shit.

Duo cast his gaze down shamefully. _Da fuck came over me?_ He wondered, distressed. His heart was beating frantically, flooded with a sick forbidding feeling, and yet, he was extremely aroused. What the fuck?

"Put your hands behind your back," Jerry commanded Duo sternly. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and approached the ex-con.

"Jerry, don't," Heero whispered hoarsely and then coughed.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Jerry exclaimed, turning to face Heero.

"This is just a... misunderstanding," Heero rasped and then coughed once more. "It's not—" he coughed again, "—his fault."

Duo stared at Heero, dumbfounded. Why was he covering for him?

"Hiro, don't bullshit me!" the Preventer agent insisted; "Look at you! Look at _him_!"

Heero turned to look at Duo's bleeding arm. His gaze was calm as he examined the bite-wound quietly. His eyes trailed slowly down to look at the large silver cross dangling over Duo's nude chest. Duo shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.

After a tense moment, Heero turned back to Jerry and pinned the agent's angry gaze with a harsh gaze of his own.

"What are you doing here?"

The redheaded man seemed stumped. "I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by," he explained; Duo could tell that he was lying. "It doesn't fucking matter what I'm doing here! It's a good thing I came over!" he called out, waving his gun to gesture in Duo's direction.

Duo's posture stiffened. He glared at the redheaded agent menacingly, ready to fight for his freedom if necessary. There was no fucking way he was going back to prison over this!

"This isn't what it looks like," Heero surprised Duo by denying what had obviously happened.

"So what _does_ it look like?" Jerry muttered sarcastically and gestured at Heero's bloody face.

"I had a nose bleed," Heero explained feebly and tried to wipe the dry blood which was still smeared across his mouth and nose. "I felt faint and I fell over the desk. It's nothing new."

"You fell so hard that you shoved the monitor through the window?" Jerry quirked a skeptic eyebrow.

"Yes," Heero replied tiredly, lacking the strength to pull off a convincing lie.

Duo stared at Heero, speechless. He wasn't imagining it – Heero was truly making excuses for him. Why the Hell?

"Duo was only trying to wake me up after I had fainted," Heero insisted quietly.

"Are you _sure?_" Jerry asked, his eyes begging Heero for an honest answer.

"Yes," Heero said firmly, glaring at Jerry, daring him to challenge his claim once more.

"And the bite wound?" Jerry insisted, gesturing with his pistol at Duo's bleeding hand.

Heero's eyes shifted to look at the wound as well. He studied the way the blood oozed slowly from where sharp fangs had left their mark.

"Chowder panicked," he let out quietly and turned back to Jerry, pinning his gaze sternly, daring the agent to argue with his claim.

"Alright then," Jerry sighed, clearly disappointed. He finally let his hand down and turned his aim away from Duo. He tucked the handcuffs back into his pocket, but still held onto the gun. He glared at Duo, but didn't say another word about his suspicions.

"I saw a taxi waiting outside," he turned to Heero instead. "Are you going someplace?"

"I have a meeting," Heero murmured as he pushed himself away from the desk. He looked around, scanning the floor for something. Duo figured it was his eyeglasses, so he hurried to walk over to where they had been tossed aside and gave them back to Heero.

Heero stared at Duo's bloody hand for a moment, his eyes shining strangely. He accepted the glasses silently. He put them on shakily and adjusted them over the bridge of his bloody nose without meeting Duo's eyes the whole while.

"Let me give you a ride instead," Jerry offered, sending a menacing glance in Duo's direction before looking at Heero again.

"No," Heero grunted, "I'll take the cab."

"It's probably gone by now," Jerry pointed out.

"Then I'll get another one."

"Hiro—"

"Just leave," Heero muttered as he walked over to pick up his fallen business bag from the other side of the room. "You shouldn't even be here," he added with a sigh as he picked up the tossed bag. He placed it on the desk.

"Hiro, please don't start that again. I'm here because I'm your friend, okay?"

"You're here because of him," Heero gestured at Duo with his head, glaring harshly at Jerry.

Duo, who had been standing quietly the whole time, merely following the exchange of words between the two, frowned warily. What was Heero hinting at? What did he know? What did Jerry know?

Jerry's silence was enough of a confirmation for Heero, who scowled angrily at the undercover Preventer agent. "Did she send you on a babysitting job – is that it?"

For a moment, the redheaded man seemed at a loss for words. "I was driving by," he muttered petulantly; "that's all."

"That is a lie." Heero accused irately and Duo smirked, pleased. It seemed that he had been too quick to judge the nature of Heero's and Jerry's relationship; the two didn't seem to like each other very much.

"I don't appreciate you barging into my home waving a gun," Heero concluded; "I don't need a personal bodyguard."

"It sure doesn't look like that from where I'm standing."

Heero moved so fast that Duo could barely focus his eyes on his blurry image. In an instant he sneaked behind the tall agent, slipped one arm towards his weapon while his other wrapped tightly around Jerry's neck in a stranglehold. He pulled the older man back against him, forcing him down to his knees as he pressed the gun to his temple. The redheaded agent was taken completely by surprise. He froze, stunned, until he got his wits back together and began wriggling in Heero's hold, trying to break free.

Duo watched the scene, confused. He never would have guessed that Heero could still move like that. His technique was immaculate: perfect skill compensating for lack of strength against a taller, stronger, opponent. If Heero could still defend himself like that, then why didn't he fight back when he attacked him earlier? It didn't make sense. First he chose not to fight back and now he was making excuses for him? What was going on?

Unable to break free, Jerry let out an irritated grunt. "Fine, Hiro. You made your point," he grumbled. "Now _let go_!" he ended his implore with another attempt to break free: throwing his body forward in an effort to fling and flip Heero over. But Heero quickly let go before he could be pulled by Jerry's momentum and the redheaded man fell flat on his face. Heero remained standing steadily behind him, the gun in his hand as he glared down at the fallen agent.

Duo laughed. "Oh that was precious!" he called, amused.

Heero's glare quickly shifted towards him and Duo fell abruptly silent. His eyes widened in surprise when Heero raised his arm up and pointed the gun at him instead.

Jerry scrambled up to his feet and immediately caught on to the fact that he was standing in the line of fire. He took a quick step back, looking at Heero anxiously. The young man stood rigidly by his damaged desk, his face smeared with traces of dry blood and his blue eyes gleaming madly, furious. His arm was stretched forward tautly, the pistol wrapped securely in his hold. He was so tense that he was shaking slightly, his finger close to pressing the trigger.

"Hiro," Jerry called his name cautiously, "What are you doing?"

"Déjà vu," Heero whispered, panting frenziedly through clenched teeth, his angry eyes never breaking eye contact with Duo, who stood before him unmoving, gawking at him in morbid fascination. Neither young man dared to move. They merely glowered at each other tensely. Then, Duo smirked.

"Are you actually going to shoot me this time, Heero, or should I just call your bluff again?"

Heero's arm shuddered as though losing its nerve. He struggled to steady it, clenching his teeth tightly as his finger flexed around the trigger.

"Hiro," Jerry warned, "Put the gun down."

Biting on his lower lip, Heero fought to keep a steady aim. His whole body quivered visibly, betraying the inner struggle tearing through him.

"We've been in this standoff before, haven't we Heero?" Duo taunted cheekily. "All we're missing is an unconscious Ozzie on the floor n' a couple a bombs to take the place down afterwards."

"You got your_ Ozzie_ right here," Jerry muttered and strode swiftly towards Heero. He snatched the gun from his shaky grip, scowling at the two.

"You were a bunch of _stupid kids_ then, and you're a couple of _infantile jerks_ now," he grumbled. "If you want to kill each other over an old grudge, go right ahead, but keep my gun out of this. No one's shooting anyone on my watch."

Mollified, Heero slumped back against the desk, his whole posture sagging tiredly, deflating in defeat. He raised a shaky hand up to push his long bangs back. Sighing quietly, he looked up again, shifting his eyes towards Duo. He observed him silently, his expression numb.

Duo didn't know what to make of the whole thing. Was this some sick, half-hearted attempt at revenge – or was Heero truly out of his mind? Is that why he needed a faggot Preventer agent to keep an eye on him? Was he dangerous to the public? Is that why he kept a safe distance from his son? Is that why he was on so much anti-psychotic meds? Is that why he was senile? It was – wasn't it!

"Shit, Heero," Duo let out, laughing with relief. "You had me going there for a second."

"Put a sock in it, Maxwell," Jerry snapped irritably. "You barely got away with your life."

Duo scowled darkly at the redheaded man. He distinctly remembered never giving the man his name. It was obvious that the man knew all there was to know about the two of them.

"Ozzies just love telling me that, don't they?" he muttered haughtily, sneering at Jerry. "So what are you like an ex-Ozzie with the flair for law and order? Jesus, I swear Preventer was established just so you guys wouldn't haffta stay out of a job. Are you getting a kick outta keeping tabs on us ex-pilots, making sure we don't flip out on no one? I bet you feel like a real _true blue hero _here, don't ya?"

"Duo, shut up," Heero huffed coldly. "The man was only doing his job."

"And a fine job he's doing, keeping the _Perfect Soldier _in check. Good for you, Jerry. God knows I was never really good at it, so good for you," he taunted sarcastically.

"Maybe it's time I leave," the agent said; "you two _broads_ look like you could use some time alone," he grunted as he tucked his pistol back into its harness behind his back. "I'll be watching you, Maxwell," he warned while walking to the door.

Duo followed the man's every move as he left the apartment. His cobalt eyes narrowed with mistrust. He turned back to Heero, who was still leaning against his battered desk, looking ahead blankly.

For a while, they merely observed the floor in silence.

"We need to talk about this," Duo finally stated; his eyes were dead-serious as they gazed at the young man he had nearly just suffocated to death. He remained standing where he was, a few good feet away from Heero, feeling as though he was looking over a great wall, trying to reach over a concrete barricade. Heero wouldn't look at him.

"There is nothing to talk about," he spoke quietly as he studied the floor at his feet.

"I coulda killed you," Duo continued nonetheless; "but you covered for me – why?"

Heero shifted his gaze up briefly, then down again, looking troubled. "I'm late for my meeting," he mumbled and pushed off the desk, ready to leave the room.

"Screw the meeting," Duo hissed angrily and stomped over to block Heero's way to the corridor. He stood before him, bare-chested, tense and unwilling to budge. He could tell that his blunt closeness disturbed Heero, for the young man recoiled away from his molester however slightly.

Duo felt the advantage and stood his ground. He took a step closer just to spite Heero. They were so close that he could feel the man's hot breath brush against his face. He stared blankly at the dry blood smudged across Heero's face – evidence of his insane assault – before pinning Heero's gaze with a harsh glare.

"I want to know what's going on," he demanded; "Da fuck is wrong with you, Heero? One minute you're lying on the floor like a beat-up_ dog_ and the next you're threatening to _shoot _me? What da Hell is going on?"

Heero almost flinched; almost, but not quite, just enough so that Duo would notice his obvious recoil.

"I wouldn't have shot you," Heero admitted quietly, weighing his words carefully.

"But you wanted to, didn't you?"

Heero lowered his gaze down shamefully. "Maybe. I don't know. I was... angry."

"And if that _faggot_ _Ozzie_ wouldn't have shown up prancing like some _warrior princess_, you woulda done it, _right?_"

"If Jerry hadn't shown up, I would have been dead."

He had him there, Duo realized, and was suddenly painfully aware of the dry blood smeared across Heero's face, staining his nose, cheeks and upper lip: a bloody handprint he had applied as he nearly suffocated the man to death.

"Then I guess we're both crazy," Duo concluded bitterly. Shame filled him and he sighed, tired suddenly. He turned to the sofa and slumped down on it heavily. The black leather squeaked in protest.

"How come you're friends with an _ex-Ozzie?_" he asked, head bowed so he wouldn't have to look at Heero with guilty eyes.

"We met in AA."

"That's awfully honest of you," Duo pointed out as he looked up again. "Your turn," he said, looking intently at Heero; "Truth or dare?" His eyes gleamed with a silent hope that the young man would take the challenge. He hoped he won't dare him to leave before the week was over.

"Truth," Heero surprised him as he leveled his gaze with Duo's. "Tell me what you meant when you said _'déjà vu'_?"

"Déjà vu?" Duo marveled at the odd question. "Hey man, you were the one who said it. You were referring to that time you broke me out of that OZ base. You were bluffing with a gun then too."

Heero nodded in confirmation. "Then you don't remember."

"Remember what?"

Heero sighed. "Never mind," he mumbled. "Just forget it."

_'...i'Ll JuSt...'_

_'...fOrGeT...'_

Duo shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. A dark forbidding feeling knotted in the pit of his stomach, causing his whole inside to clench painfully. Was that Heero's voice he had just heard?

"No, man, tell me. This day can't get more fucked up than it already is, so I'm ready for just about anything."

"I said never mind," Heero insisted and finally walked away, heading for the bathroom. He closed the door behind him. After a while, the door reopened and Heero stepped out. His face was clean after he had washed the traces of blood off. He had also combed his hair and rearranged his suit to be presentable once again. He did not look at Duo as he walked over to the coffee table to get his business bag.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," Heero replied quietly and walked to the door.

"Heero," Duo called after him from the sofa. He turned to face the door and saw that Heero was standing by it, a hand on the doorknob. His back was rigid as he waited to hear what Duo had to say.

"Last one," Duo requested and he knew that Heero would understand. "My turn."

After brief consideration, Heero nodded, still facing the door. His fist clenched around the doorknob tightly. "Truth or dare?" he asked quietly.

"Dare," Duo hurried to choose. "I dare you to let me see this week through," he said; "I know you want me outta here—"

"More than anything," Heero cut-in and surprised Duo, who paused for a moment.

"—But please don't kick me out just yet."

Heero opened the door. He still hadn't turned to face Duo. "Four more days and you're out of here," he concluded and then finally left.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 07: Lolita:<strong>

"I'm done listening to your lies, Duo," Quatre called back from the hallway. "I'm afraid I'm not as tolerant as Heero; I won't be swayed by empty promises."

oOo

Something fell from his grasp and landed on the bed with a soft thud. Duo's eyes darted in the direction of the sound. It was his folding combat knife. He had just let go of a bloody knife!

"Holy Hell!" he cried and shot off the bed in fright.

oOo

"Hiro has no business harboring you in his home," Marissa muttered reproachfully.

"_Harboring _me?" Duo hissed dangerously; "I ain't no fugitive, bitch."

"You might as well be," she retorted spitefully. "What you did is beyond the pale."

oOo

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hang in there! I promise that in the next chapter, (some) things will finally be revealed.

Elle


	9. Chapter 07: Lolita

**Chapter 07 – A Revised Repost:**

**Author's Note:**

After seeing some people's reactions to Chapter 07, I've decided to rethink my posting-strategy. I took it down and I'm posting this instead. Please read carefully before you proceed.

In hopes that you're still willing to give this story a shot, I'm giving you two options:

**1)** This story in its entirety can be read on AO3 due to its mature content. So, if you're interested in this story in its original and uncensored form, please follow the link on my profile page to the AO3 archive. Reader's discretion is advised. Chapter 07 (on AO3) is rated MA for **sex, prostitution, underage solicitation, drug abuse, blood and violent death**. Also, there are some racist comments that by **no means **represent my views!

**2)** For the more light-hearted readers, you have the option to keep reading the story on ff dot net in its censored version. What I'm going to do is, in a way, allow you to "close your eyes during the scary parts of the movie" (as my wonderful beta reader has put so nicely!) and simply take you through the disturbing parts quickly by writing a brief summary of the events. No gruesome details, promise. I believe that chapters 8-12 can be enjoyed in their original form (nothing upsetting happens there). Chapter 13's ending will be summarized as well because it contains a very disturbing scene. Same goes for Chapter 15. Other than those three "problematic" chapters, the story will be posted as is.

I hope that by offering you these two choices you'd still be able to enjoy the story. I'm aware that my representation of Duo is what's causing negative feedback. He is such a beloved character and, sick or not, some may find it difficult to read about him doing unthinkable things. I understand. I love his character too and I don't write about him being this way in my other stories. One Week came from a very dark place in me. There is much darkness in Duo too, so he became my outlet.

I want to say a BIG thank you to my dear beta reader for her support! I would have lost the nerve to keep posting if not for you, so thank you!

Elle

**Alright then. If you're still inserted in reading this censored chapter, here goes (otherwise, visit my profile page for the link to the full version on AO3):**

* * *

><p><strong>One Week - Part 920**

**Chapter 07: Lolita - Censored Version**

**Summary:**

Flashback sequence. It's AC 200 and a drug-addicted Duo comes to L4 to seek Quatre's help. He wants to break the habit, but Quatre is too lenient on him so Duo just keeps using. He spends his days high on cocaine and sleeping with whores. Quatre disapproves of his way of life but he is too busy working to really keep an eye on Duo. He is working on the ZERO System, trying to apply its abilities to help people rather than fight them. He plans on sending Duo to rehab because he cannot cope with Duo's addiction on his own.

Duo resents Quatre for wishing to send him away. He regrets that he cannot turn to Heero for help because Heero would have done what was necessary to rid him of his crippling addiction. He reflects on his friendship with Heero, trying to figure out what went wrong. When he can't pin-point what had lead their friendship astray, he decides that it was all Heero's fault anyway and he shouldn't care. Heero was the one who chose to terminate their friendship so he won't give the ex-Wing ZERO pilot a second thought!

Quatre's niece, the sixteen-year-old daughter of one of his many sisters, comes for a visit while Quatre is at work. She was sent from Russia by her strict Muslim parents who hoped that if she spent a little time away from home she will repent her wayward behavior.

Duo mistakes the young promiscuous girl for a prostitute he had ordered. The young girl plays along, trying to spite her uncle by sleeping with his friend. She tells him to call her Lolita. The two spend some time in a hot tub on the roof, fooling around, drinking and doing drugs. Without Duo noticing, the girl spikes his drink with a little blue pill, even though Duo warned her not to mix that particular drug with alcohol.

They move to the bedroom. Duo, under the influence of the spiked drink, loses control during sex and blacks out. When he comes to, he finds the girl dead, lying in a pool of her own blood. He's not sure how or why, but he had cut her groin open with a knife and she bled to death on the bed.

Panicked, Duo gathers his things and runs before Quatre comes home.

**End Summary. On with the chapter...**

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><p>Lolita wasn't kidding; the damn teenage slut was indeed Quatre's niece. Her real name was Anya Maksimov, a sixteen year old daughter of one of Quatre's many sisters. Her parents lived in a large Muslim community in Russia and they sent her to spend the summer on L4 with her uncle, wishing to keep her out of the trouble she was so keen on getting into.<p>

Duo was shocked to learn the truth. When a Preventer agent told him about it during the initial interrogation, he had simply gaped at him in disbelief. He had truly thought that the promiscuous girl was a prostitute; she hadn't said anything to make him believe otherwise. She played along, most likely to spite her uncle and express her dismay of the whole arrangement. She used him to get back at her parents and the provocation had cost the foolish girl her life.

Seven years later, thinking back on that day, Duo still couldn't say for certain what went wrong. Experts testified that the drugs he had abused that day, even mixed with alcohol, could not account for his loss of memory. The jury refused to believe that he had blacked out sometime between orgasm and reality. It didn't help that he could not reconstruct what happened, how he had ended up slicing the girl across the right crease of her groin. He admitted that they played an erotic game with his knife, but insisted that he did not cut her for real. He certainly couldn't recall serving a main artery in her groin and watching her bleed to death while he fucked her! That was sick. Just _sick!_ He could never do such a thing! He wasn't some psycho!

His lawyer, appointed by the state, tried to play the momentary insanity claim, but it didn't hold. Sadly, given his past as a terrorist, no one was willing to listen. They condemned him from the start. As part of the treaty signed between Earth and the Colonies, both governments had conferred legal immunity on all of the former Gundam pilots back in AC 196; hence Preventer could never hold him accountable for any of the acts he had committed during wartime. That didn't stop the prosecution from taking those crimes into consideration and allowing his past to reflect on his character. The jury bought into it easily; it wasn't hard for them to believe that a person who had performed guerrilla warfare against military targets was also capable of harming innocent civilians. Not that the promiscuous blonde was by any means _innocent_, but the jury didn't care for that.

Quatre certainly never spoke in his favor. His testimony only incriminated Duo further. He spoke of the drug abuse, of the whores Duo had brought into his home and of Duo's past as a rogue street urchin on L2. In his fury, Quatre had consciously betrayed Duo's trust by speaking of things he had told him in strict confidence. When asked why he didn't report Duo's misconduct sooner, Quatre had turned an angry glare at the prosecutor and said that he meant to send Duo off to rehab before his niece arrived. If Anya's parents would have informed him about her earlier arrival, he would have kicked Duo out already.

It didn't take the jury long to reach their verdict: he was as guilty as sin. His attorney was skillful enough to reduce the sentence to voluntary manslaughter rather than murder in the second degree. Since no premeditated intent could be proven, he was charged with a crime committed in the "Heat of Passion" and sentence to ten years' time.

Thankfully, since the Winner Cooperation was involved, the whole matter never reached the press to avoid bad publicity and meddling in internal family affairs. Duo's trial went unnoticed by the public and he sat rotting in an L4 prison cell for seven years without anyone ever knowing about it.

The 5 O'clock News was playing on the flat television screen in Heero's apartment. A stoic news anchor was reporting about one thing or another; Duo didn't really care to listen. He was sitting on the hard black leather sofa in Heero's living room, dressed only in a pair of black boxer shorts while his large silver cross dangled over his bare muscled chest. There were two empty beer bottles on the coffee table, along with some Chinese takeout leftovers. Duo had memorized Heero's credit card number when he took the man's wallet to the supermarket the day before, so he had no problem ordering whatever he wanted.

He sat slouched down on the sofa, tossing a folded jackknife up and down the palm of his hand as he stared at the television numbly. The small switchblade seemed relatively new. It wasn't the same knife he had carried with him since childhood; that pocketknife was confiscated and used as evidence against him. The object he was holding was a similar folding combat knife, same brand as the last one, which he had acquired illegally in prison. It was the same knife Officer Hakeem tried to take from him during his release.

Even though Duo was aware that it wasn't the same jackknife, he still took comfort in holding it – which he often did. The feeling of the folded switchblade in his fist was soothing and familiar. During his time in prison, he had transferred all of his old sentiments into his new blade.

He was so bored. It's been hours since Heero left. Chowder was still locked in the laundry room, where he had left it unconscious that morning. The apartment was too quiet and too empty; it was driving Duo mad. He was unaccustomed to being alone; prison was always crowded and buzzing with activity. The silence was maddening.

Sighing, Duo threw the knife back into his bag and bent towards the coffee table to fetch his pack of smokes. Leaning back, he used a cheap green plastic lighter to light up a cigarette and grabbed the remote. He flipped the TV channels until he found a music channel to his liking.

Loud death-metal music filled the air and Duo smirked darkly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, allowing the music to flow through him. He raised a hand up to draw smoke from his cigarette and exhaled it in a long, relaxing breath.

An imaged flickered hazily behind his closed eyelids; a disturbing recollection of a long bloody gash: the cut he had inflicted on Lolita's groin.

He opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly, trying to shake the unsettling mental image. It was as if the sight of that bleeding wound was scorched into his memory with hot iron molds. There were nights when he couldn't shake the image away: the crimson fluid gushing out of a clean, deep cut, oozing down the pale white skin of her groin. Lolita's wound was metaphorically scarred on his flesh, etched to the back of his eyelids for him to see whenever they closed.

Trying to ignore it, Duo stood up and began circling the living room, moving his head with the music. His shoulder-length hair bounced around his head with the beat. He closed his eyes and allowed the music to course through him. The silver cross pendant swung wildly over his nude chest as he moved to the music. He enjoyed feeling the heavy cold metal bounce against his bare skin. It was like taking a wild dance with God himself as the Almighty hugged his neck and kissed his chest like a randy whore. His faith made him strong, no matter how twisted his views have become over the years; over the past few days in particular. Heero made him crazy, but his cross made him sane. They danced together, hanging on a thin thread dangling between madness and reason. He was in fucking heaven— until the phone rang.

Duo's eyes snapped open and he halted. The phone rang again and he whirled around towards the desk under the broken window, spotting the cordless phone. He stared at it, listening to it ring persistently. Duo felt as though it was beckoning him; somehow, he just knew that the phone was ringing for him. He answered it.

Loud metal music was still playing, bombarding the apartment with crude noise. Pressing the cordless phone to his ear, Duo searched for the remote on the sofa. "Hello?" he called as he reached for the remote to turn the volume down.

There was no reply from the other side of the line. Duo stood in the middle of the living room and scratched his naked chest; the skin under his cross itched as though scorched by it, punishing him for sins he could only dream of.

"_Hello!?_" he grunted into the phone again. "Heero, is that you?" he ventured a guess.

"Yes," Heero's quiet voice finally spoke from the other side of the line and Duo smiled slyly.

"I thought so," he said. "Wussup? Everything cool?"

"I'm calling to let you know that I will be running late."

"Oh yeah? Is the meeting taking longer than you expected? Want me to come 'n bail ya out? Yanno, like from a bad date or sumthin'?"

There was a long pause from the other side of the line.

"Heero?" Duo called, frowning. "You still there?"

He heard Heero heave a long sigh.

"No, Duo, there's no need to _'bail me out'_," he replied tiredly. "I will be home later tonight so could you please feed Chowder? And take him out for a—" Heero took a sharp gasp for air. Someone was talking in the background; a female. What the Hell was going on? Where was Heero calling from? Was he with that Hispanic slut?! Was he fucking her?! Was he calling from her bed, that damn two-timing prick!

"Could you please take Chowder... for a short walk?" Heero requested wearily.

Duo's frown deepened. Heero sounded like shit; something _was_ wrong.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" he asked worriedly; "Is sumthin' wrong? You don't sound too good. Need me to come over?" He would gladly come to take Heero away from whatever slut he was probably fucking.

"No, I'm... fine," Heero said slowly, "Could you just... Just take care of Chowder."

"Yeah, sure Heero, no problem," he hurried to say, gazing at the laundry room where he had locked the damn beast that morning. He could hear it scrap against the laundry room door.

"Yanno you can always count on me," he lied as smoothly as a silver-tongued devil. All the while, his gaze was fixed on the broken square patch of the living room window, where he had shoved Heero violently but a few hours ago. He glanced down at the desk, at the missing space left by the fallen computer monitor and winced, looking away. What in God's name came over him that morning?

"Anything else I can do you for?" he asked with an emphasized touch of his Southern accent, trying to sound playful despite the sick feeling in his stomach.

There was a long, contemplative pause on Heero's end of the line. "No," Heero finally said and hung up the call.

* * *

><p>Duo put on a dirty T-shirt, the same one he had arrived in – the one sporting an image of a crazy-looking green cartoon dog being slaughtered by a bloody army knife; it felt like an appropriate attire considering he was about to walk a damn dog. He headed for the laundry room to fetch Chowder. He might hate dogs more than anything, but Heero asked him for a favor and God be damned – he was going to do it.<p>

The Hellish beast pounced at him the minute he opened the door. Duo kicked the dog off violently, shoving the damned animal aside, cussing angrily. Howling, Chowder ran out of the laundry room and to the front door, barking loudly as though calling for help.

"Well I ain't crazy about the idea of taking care of ya either, ya fucking _fur-ball,_" he grunted as he walked to the door and grabbed Chowder's leash from the wall hanger. "I'm only doin' this cuz Heero asked me to," he muttered. "God knows I owe him one..."

The dog's ears perked up and it began growling dangerously, warning Duo not to approach it with the leash.

"Fuck off, bitch," Duo growled as he whipped the dog's back with the leash, attacking it before it attacked him. Chowder cringed in pain and barked frantically. Duo ignored it and hurried to secure the leash to the damn dog's collar. He tugged at it forcefully, nearly choking the dog, until it fell quiet, submitting.

Sockless, he stepped into his heavy black boots, grabbed his smokes and a lighter and headed out the door, pulling the reluctant Chowder along with him. Wailing miserably, the dog followed Duo down the stairs.

As soon as he stepped out of the building, Duo lit up a smoke. He tied Chowder's leash to a lamp post in front of the building and then plopped unceremoniously on the stairs leading up to the lobby. He took his time drawing smoke from his cigarette, lost in thoughts. Meanwhile, Chowder circled the pole helplessly, wailing miserably. Duo snorted and sneered at the damn dog.

"This is as far as I'm gonna take ya, so fucking deal with it, bitch," he muttered and took a long drag on his smoke, looking the other way. He stared ahead at the far end of the street, where cars were speeding up and down the main road in a colorful blur of red and yellow headlights. "Just do your fuckin' business already, I ain't taking ya nowhere."

Chowder barked and wailed, but Duo ignored its cries and simply tried to enjoy his smoke. He considered releasing the stupid canine from its leash and forcing it to run away, but then he recalled the look of utter abandonment on Heero's face yesterday, when Chowder took off. He couldn't do that to Heero; not purposefully, not ever. He would never hurt Heero for real. What happened that morning wasn't his fault. He never meant to hurt Heero. He was certain that Heero knew that; otherwise, he wouldn't have denied the whole thing in front of that faggot Jerry.

"A God damned _Ozzie_," Duo muttered grimly, shaking his head with dismay. His bitter thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high-heels tapping against the pavement. Duo looked up and spotted two familiar silhouettes heading into the street from the main road: a woman and a small child; Marissa and Adriel.

"_Great,_" he grumbled and threw his cigarette butt to the pavement, aiming at the stupid dog. He ran a hand to push his long bangs up, trying to look cool so that the damn Beaner-bitch won't glare at him for chillin' on the steps of her apartment building.

The two reached the stairs and stopped when they saw Duo.

"Evening ma'am," he greeted cynically, looking Marissa up and down with dark, condemning eyes. The older woman was wearing a flowery dress which clung to her voluptuous figure. Her long dark-brown hair fell over her shoulders in a cascade of lush curls. She was carrying a pizza box in one hand and holding her son's hand in the other. Adriel stood next to her, wearing some sort of yellow and black sports uniform and holding a soccer ball in his hand. His smooth ebony black hair was a bit dusty, as were his soccer uniforms. Small dry grass leaves peeked between smooth strands of black hair and there was a jubilant gleam in his twinkling hazel eyes which suggested that he had greatly enjoyed whatever playful scuffle had caused him to look so disheveled. Adriel's messy appearance was _almost_ adorable. If Duo didn't resent the boy so much for being Heero's illegitimate son, he would have even found it cute, for it offered him a glimpse to what Heero might have looked like if he had been fortunate enough to live normally.

Marissa wrapped her arm protectively around the boy's shoulder and pulled him closer to her.

Duo ignored her and faked a smiled. "Hey there _squirt_," he said in forged cheerfulness, "What's that? You were playing ball?"

"I had soccer practice," the child chirped and his hazel eyes sparkled with glee. "We kicked ass!"

"Adriel!" Marissa quickly rebuked his language and the little boy smiled sheepishly.

"Oh _wow_," Duo exclaimed sarcastically; "You're real serious 'bout this shit aren't ya?" Marissa's glare hardened even more and Duo smirked spitefully.

The child nodded excitedly, oblivious to Duo's sarcasm. "We have a big game coming up. You can come with Hiro to see me play."

"Love to squirt, but I dunno if I'm gonna stay around for that long."

"Come on, papí," Marissa finally cut in, obviously upset that her son was having a friendly conversation with Duo. "We have to get going before the pizza gets cold."

"But I wanna play ball with Chowder!" the boy whined; "Please? Can I stay? Duo can watch over me."

Marissa seemed appalled by the idea. "No papí, you may not," she hurried to refuse and nudged the boy forward, urging him to keep moving. "C'mon, we have to get going."

"What's your fuckin' problem, lady?!"

Marissa glared angrily at Duo. She gave her son another small nudge forward. "Go upstairs, papí, I'll be right there."

"Can I take the pizza?" the squirt chirped and already reached for the box in his mother's hands. Marissa handed it to him quickly.

"Wash up before dinner," she muttered, still staring Duo down. Adriel hurried up stairs, his soccer ball and treasured pizza in hand. Once the boy was gone, Duo's expression hardened. He stood up, assuming an intimidating pose. He glared down at the scornful Latin woman standing before him.

"I know who you are, Duo," Marissa hissed in a low and angry tone. "I know what you did," she added with disgust, running her eyes up and down the tall burly man standing before her. She eyed his large silver cross with disapproval and Duo felt his blood boil with anger. The bitch was looking down at him as though he didn't deserve to wear their Lord's symbol so close to his heart. He curled his fists tightly, trying to control his anger. How could she possibly know what he had done? He was told that the matter would never reach the press. The bitch was fucking with him.

"Hiro has no business harboring you in his home," Marissa muttered reproachfully.

"_Harboring _me?" Duo hissed dangerously; "I ain't no fugitive, bitch."

"You might as well be," she retorted spitefully. "What you've done is beyond the pale."

She planted both her hands on her curvy hips and pressed her lush lips together angrily. She seemed outraged by him. Good. If she knew about what he had done then she should feel sickened. But then again – how could she know? The news couldn't possibly have reached her! There hadn't been any press coverage! She was just fucking with him!

"You don't know jack shit," he muttered crudely.

"I know more than enough," she hissed with contempt; "I've seen what you've done, that terrible gash... I can never get it out of my head, God damn you."

"Who da fuck are you!" Duo exclaimed, panicked; "How could you possibly—"

"You keep the Hell away from my son, you hear?" she cut in, caring very little for what he had to say. Her dark brown eyes seethed with anger as she glared up at Duo. "I don't want to see you near him again!"

Duo let out a snorting snicker. "Is that a threat?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you really wanna go there? Cuz I'm game, lady, no problem. You just give me a reason to _fuck you up_ and I will."

Marissa didn't seem fazed by his threat or the menace in his eyes. She lifted her head up spitefully, standing her ground. She glared at Duo in abhorrence.

"Take one step towards Adriel and I'll rip your eyes straight out of their sockets, you God damned son-of-a-bitch."

Duo sniggered insolently. "My my, do you say your prayers with that dirty mouth? Shit, bitch. You just made me horny."

"I mean it," Marissa hissed another warning; "Don't come near my son again."

"He's Heero's son too, ya fucking hoe. I'll come near him all I fucking want. I'll hang around Heero all I fucking want and I'll stay here for as _long_ as I _fucking want!_"

For a moment, the woman seemed shocked and anxious by his acknowledgment of Heero being Adriel's father. However her surprise lasted only a second before her features darkened with utter abhor.

"Haven't you hurt Hiro enough?" she demanded harshly, gazing up at Duo with a pair of tortured dark-brown eyes. The look in her eyes reminded him of Heero again. Once more, she was looking at him just like Heero did; like the two of them shared some dark secret no other soul on Earth knew about or understood. He hated her for it.

"Why in God's name would you show up here after all these years?" Marissa demanded heatedly. "What for? Haven't you done enough damage? Do you enjoy torturing him, is that it?"

"Da fuck's that?" Duo burst; "I ain't done nuthin' wrong! Heero and I are _pals_. We've been through fucking _Hell_ together! I ain't the one who fucked him up!"

"Ignorance is no protection against punishment," Marissa informed him haughtily; she sounded like his damn priest. "You have much to repent."

"And Heero doesn't?" he exclaimed irritably; "We've been through the same shit. What makes him so fucking special?"

"You chose the easy way out, you turned to God to absolve you," Marissa muttered indignantly, gesturing at his cross with her head. She reached to hold the frail golden cross hanging around her neck and wrapped her fingers around the delicate pendant. "Hiro turned to people. That's what makes him special, that's what makes him better than you. That's what makes him _strong_," she concluded with a small sigh, casting her gaze down to the ground. "You two are nothing alike. Stay away from him. He's having a hard enough time as it is."

"Hey, I ain't the one giving him Hell over your damn kid," he accused viciously. "I ain't the one keeping him from telling Adriel that he's his father! Da fuck you ended up havin' his kid anyway? You're like a million years older than he is, _granny_!"

Marissa was seething with anger. She glared at him hatefully. "If you truly care for Hiro – which I doubt you do–" she muttered disdainfully, "then you'd do him a favor and leave." With that said, she walked up to the building, her high heel shoes tapping harshly on the stairs as she climbed up in to the lobby.

Duo snorted and shook his head. He lit up another smoke.

"The bitch has some nerve..." he muttered to himself and took a long drag. How dare she suggest that he was to blame of Heero's suffering? What the Hell did he have to do with anything that happened to Heero after the war? He was willing to be there for Heero, but Heero chose to leave him behind. Everything that happened after that couldn't possibly be his fault!

But the bitch still was right about one thing: God offered him no absolution. Heero was his only salvation. He had to be, otherwise – he was lost. No one else could save him from himself. He needed more than a week; he needed Heero for _far longer_ than one lousy week!

Heero should be his for good.

But between Heero's _damn beast_ of a dog, his _fancy job_, his _faggot bodyguard_, his _Beaner-bitch _ex-girlfriend and his _bratty squirt_ of a son, Duo was beginning to wonder where the Hell was _he_ going to fit in. He had to find a way to drill himself into that picture-perfect life of Heero's, or else he'd lose it completely. He_ will_ make himself a place; even if it meant that someone else had to_ go._

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 08: Wound:<strong>

Heero's head jerked up; he glowered furiously at Duo. "You can't help me, Duo," he snapped; "Don't you get it? You're only making it worse."

oOo

Heero rose to his feet swiftly. He snatched the knife from Duo's grip – and plunged it into his chest, stabbing his own heart. Duo watched the blood gush out of the wound, fascinated and mortified at once.

oOo

"Okay, okay, no panic," Duo mumbled, slightly out of breath for he himself was beginning to panic. "I'm calling an ambulance, just hang in there..."

oOo


	10. Chapter 08: Wound

**One Week 10/20**

**Chapter 08: Wound**

The minute Duo walked back into Heero's apartment, he dragged Chowder into the laundry room. The damn beast refused to let him close the door and lock it so he kicked the dog, hard. Chowder went down with a short wail/yelp. Duo locked the laundry room's door and went to put on some music.

The time was half past seven p.m. and he was starving. He opened the fridge in search for some grub. He shoved a slice of turkey deli-meat and cheese between two slices of whole-grain bread, grabbed his last bottle of beer and headed back to the living room. He slouched on the sofa, snatched the remote and took a large bite from his sandwich. He chewed on it obnoxiously as he flipped through the channels in search for something to help him pass the time.

He finally settled on porn, but after a few minutes of watching two white girls get fucked in the ass by some _humongous_ black guy, he turned off the TV and threw the remote away. He felt so edgy and aggravated, that nothing could ease his craze but to either plow someone to the floor with his fists, or fuck him/her until his/her ass bled.

Half an hour later, he heard a key slide into the lock: Heero was finally home.

Duo quickly sat up properly. He wiped the breadcrumbs off his red T-shirt and ran his hand through his hair a couple of times. As the door slowly opened, he turned around to face it. When he saw Heero, his mouth gaped open. He jumped to his feet, staring.

The young man was standing at the doorstep, looking much the worse for wear. He wasn't wearing the dark-colored blazer he had been wearing that morning when he left, rather just a torn blue dress-shirt. His dark-blue tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck. The suit's pants were torn at his left side. His left arm was wrapped in a cast, suspended on a sling hanging from his right shoulder. The entire left side of his face was badly bruised, his skin was black and blue and there were stitches on his left temple. He had no eyeglasses on and was gazing at Duo with a tired and bleak look in his Prussian blue eyes.

"Heero! Da fuck happened?!"

"I got hit by a car," Heero muttered with a tired sigh and finally stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He was limping badly.

"You fuckin'_ what!_"

Heero didn't bother repeating himself and limped towards the sofa, using his good (right) arm to hold his left leg – the one with the limp; it was obviously bothering him, for Heero winced with every step. He settled down heavily on the sofa, leaning back in fatigue. Very carefully, he placed his damaged left leg up on the coffee table and grimaced.

"I was hit while attempting to cross the road," he explained jadedly, rubbing his aching leg. His suit pants were torn and dirty, but not bloody.

"_Fuck man!_" Duo exclaimed worriedly; "Look at you! What hit you – a fucking _monster truck?_"

"It's just a fracture," Heero muttered sullenly, gesturing with his broken arm towards Duo.

"Yeah, and half your face is all black 'n blue! These bruises look so nasty even _I_ feel like wincing."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Heero grunted irritably. "I've been through worse," he added quietly as he looked around, examining the mess in the living room. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the room; it was clearly difficult for him to see without his eyeglasses. He paused to look at the broken window and missing computer monitor. Sighing, he looked down blankly. When he noticed the breadcrumbs on the sofa, he wiped them off with great annoyance, scowling down at the floor where the crumbs joined the rest of their companions already littering the shiny hardwood floor.

Duo was half-expecting the young man to reprimand him for messing up the place even more, however Heero remained silent, his displeasure apparent only in his tired blue eyes. He seemed so different without his glasses; defenseless in a way. The dark purple bruises at the left side of his face didn't help either; Heero looked like an abused spouse.

"Where's Chowder?" Heero suddenly asked and gave the room another quick scan.

"It went to sleep after I walked it," Duo lied. "Were you in a hospital?" he quickly changed the subject back to Heero. "Is that where you were calling from?" He continued probing; "Why didn't ya tell me?"

Heero bowed his head down. "What would you have done if I had told you?" he asked meekly, staring at the floor. "The driver offered to take me to a local clinic. She waited with me while a doctor put a cast around my arm and then she drove me home. It was more than you could have done for me."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Yanno she only did it so you won't press any charges."

"The accident was my fault, not hers."

"It was _your_ fault that _she _hit you?"

"Yes."

Duo frowned. "Cuz you didn't see her car coming, right?" he asked nervously; "Just like you can't see me if I approach you from sideways, or ya don't notice your dog 'nless you're looking straight down at it, right?" he deduced as he came to stand in front of Heero, glaring firmly at the injured young man. "You can't see unless you look directly at stuff, unless it's right in front of you, can't you?"

Heero offered no reply. He kept staring down at the floor.

"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" Duo pushed on; "Can't you like, I dunno, have 'em fixed or sumthin'?"

"There is nothing wrong with my eyes," Heero sighed, closing his eyes tiredly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his good hand, grimacing.

"Then what is it? Why can't you see?"

Heero reopened his eyes and sent him an angry look. He looked so strange without his eyeglasses! Duo had gotten used to the sight of Heero's mature face with his eyeglasses on. Now, Heero suddenly looked so... _exposed_. The look in his Prussian blue eyes was vivid and raw; even more intense than Duo recalled.

"Stop pestering me with questions."

"You shoulda told me 'bout the accident!"

"What difference would it have made?"

"Da fuck? I woulda come straight over!"

"What for?" Heero retorted, lifting his chin up spitefully.

"Ain't it obvious!" Duo waved his hands up in frustration. "I woulda helped! That's what friends do!"

"I don't need your help, Duo," Heero sighed and bowed his head again to stare at the coffee table. "And I've already told you that I cannot have you as my friend."

"That's harsh!" Duo snapped heatedly. His shoulder-length hair swung wildly from side to side as he shook his head in denial. "I don't deserve this shit when all I really want is to help you out!"

Heero's head jerked up; he glowered furiously at Duo. "You can't help me, Duo," he snapped; "Don't you get it? You're only making it worse."

"Da fuck that's supposed to mean?"

Heero sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Just forget it," he murmured, subjugated once again as he resumed staring tiredly at the floor.

_'...i'Ll JuSt...'_

_'...fOrGeT...'_

Duo shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. A dark forbidding feeling knotted in the pit of his stomach, causing his whole inside to clench painfully. Was that Heero's voice he just heard?

"Just... just forget it, Duo," Heero whispered. He brought his good right arm up, looking at it mournfully, somewhat nostalgically before he brought his hand back down slowly, resting it on his thigh as he curled it into a fist.

"It's for the best," he muttered resignedly.

_'... jUst..._

_...fOrgEt...'_

There it was again; Heero's voice, whispering inside his head. A frightening chill ran up and down Duo's spine. His legs suddenly felt weak and he tremble. An arctic wind gushed by his very soul, leaving him frozen to the core. His heart felt as though it had just dropped down and crashed against his ribcage. He swallowed hard, completely shaken.

_What was that? When did Heero __**say**__ that!_

He watched Heero silently; a hesitant and somewhat fearful gaze in his eyes as he studied the other man. He felt like he had committed a terrible sin; like he had done Heero so much wrong that not a soul on Earth could forgive him for it... No other soul but Heero's, but he didn't wish to be forgiven for something he was clueless about. Absolution without repentance meant nothing.

"Heero, please," he begged, "I can't just forget about this, not now. Not when I think I'm actually starting to—"

Startled, Heero whirled his head up towards him, his eyes wide. "Don't," he stopped him. "Don't say it."

Duo fell quiet and gawked at Heero, stumped.

Without the shelter of his black eyeglasses, Heero's Prussian blue eyes were so bare; stripping him down to the very essence of his soul. There was something dark and painful swirling within their depths; a poisonous shadow lingering just beneath the deep blue surface.

An awkward silence hung in the air. Duo studied Heero quietly, waiting to see what he might say or do. His gaze traveled down Heero's bowed back, looking sadly at the bony bumps of his shoulder blades showing clearly under his torn blue dress shirt, adding to his jaded appearance. Heero appeared so small all of a sudden; decrepit and frail... depleted. The color had drained from the his cheeks; his lips were slightly agape and his unruly bangs cast dark shadows over his eyes. He stared at Duo until his eyes glazed over with numbness. The young man seemed utterly defeated.

Heero stared at the coffee table, his shoulders slumping down wearily. Leaning forward, he lifted his good (right) arm to rub his face tiredly and pushed his untrimmed bangs up as he shook his head. He heaved a tired sigh, which sounded awfully loud in the heavy silence filling the apartment. He rested his good arm on his knee and flexed his palm into a fist, opening and closing it again and again as he stared at it numbly.

"After all this time," Heero's quiet murmur broke the heavy silence; "there's no point to this, so just... just forget about what you think you might know. Don't..." he allowed his voice to trail off without finishing the sentence, as though regretting it.

"Don't what?" Duo dared to whisper the question, swallowing the lump which had formed in his throat.

Again Heero sighed, an action so atypical to the person Duo had known all those years ago. Slowly, he turned to face Duo again. There was a sad and distant shine in his eyes that told volumes of the hurt he felt inside. Duo could not bear to see Heero so... _wounded_. Witnessing his frailty hurt Duo in a way he had never felt before. There was a bleeding wound in Heero's eyes, a hurt of a deep, emotional kind; a lesion that refused to heal even after all those years. The wound was still bleeding; just like the gash he saw whenever he closed his eyes, Lolita's bleeding groin.

"Don't pry," Heero requested quietly. He bowed his head to stare at his right hand, flexing it as though to test if it was still functional, unlike his useless left arm hanging limply in a sling.

"Heero," Duo whispered; he was afraid to raise his voice above a whisper and break the fragile moment. "Something isn't right here. There's something very... _wrong_... with us, you, me... What's going on? Please, you can't avoid dealing with this until the week is over. I want to be a friend to you Heero, and it's driving me nuts. I nearly killed you today..."

"I won't make that mistake again," Heero informed him, however vaguely. Duo could not be certain if the mistake Heero was referring to was the incident that morning, or their friendship altogether.

"I'm sorry," Heero murmured. "I know you didn't choose this," Heero murmured quietly, staring numbly at his hand. "You were the first person to ever reach for my hand... the first person I dared to reach back to." Slowly, he turned his head up to face Duo with a pair of wounded blue eyes. "You were the first to teach me that I could be something more than the sum of my training, and I appreciate that."

Duo swallowed, uncomfortable by the sudden earnestness.

"I wish that we would have been given a better choice in life," Heero continued quietly; "but I had to learn to live with the cards I've been dealt. You should do the same." He turned to stare down at his hand again; it was curled into a tight, angry fist. "I hope you can find a way to understand, because this is the only explanation I can give you." Heero concluded; his voice broken, pained. His expression had turned numb and stony, but his eyes were still clouded by dark anguish. "There's nothing more I can say."

Speechless, Duo stood there, unable to move as he watched Heero struggle up to his feet. The man winced as he placed his left leg on the floor and tried to stable himself. He wobbled from side to side and had to place his hand on the sofa's backrest to keep from falling.

"Here, Heero, lemme help," Duo hurried towards him, reaching a hand up in a helping gesture, but Heero pushed his hand away. He limped away, heading to his bedroom.

Duo remained standing by the sofa, watching Heero lean heavily against the corridor wall as he struggled to retreat to his bedroom. Once there, Heero closed the door behind him, clearly telling Duo that he didn't wish to be followed.

Duo heaved a sigh. He too had nothing more to say.

* * *

><p>Late that night, Duo lay wide awake on the sofa, his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The apartment was dead-silent. Heero hasn't come out of his room and Chowder was still locked inside the laundry room. Thankfully, Heero was so tired, aching and upset that he didn't check on his pet. Perhaps he had forgotten about that too.<p>

Duo shifted to lie on his side, curling into a fetal position and cradling his head on his arms.

Heero seemed to forget about a lot of things, but it would appear that there was one thing Heero will _never_ forget. Then why did he recall hearing Heero promise him that he _will_ forget? Was that just another dream? What happened? What was _he_ forgetting?

Troubled, Duo closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He called on the elusive memory of Heero's promise to forget, trying to force the truth out of the deepest, darkest regions of his mind.

What was he forgetting? He tried to sort through the many gaps he had in his memory. He came up with nothing. None of those memories could be recovered; they remained as black voids in his psyche; just like those crucial missing moments during which he had most likely killed Anya.

He recalled going to bed with that stupid Lolita girl. He recalled cleaning her blood off the floor hysterically, but he did not recall the act itself. He had fucked her silly, yes. She had given her consent; that much he recalled, but what happened afterwards... that was just another black spot. The evidence still pointed at him. It didn't matter what he told the jury; no one believed him. His crime was too hideous to be forgiven. Experts proved that he had fucked her post-mortem. That revolting fact was enough to blind the jury from seeing the truth. And the truth was that he was insane: utterly, absolutely, most definitely, fucking _insane_.

But the insanity claim didn't hold.

Quatre certainly never spoke in his favor. The bastard didn't even want to listen when he told him that his mind wasn't his at the time. Fucking asshole; some friend he was. Heero was the only true friend he had left. He was never so quick to condemn him. Heero protected him, he stood up for him that morning when that _ass-licking-faggot Jerry_ showed up waving his gun around like some fancy drama queen. Heero forgave him for whatever happened that morning. He had blacked out then too. He didn't recall attacking Heero, even though he was certain that he had. It would be foolish of him to believe otherwise.

Heero made him crazy. He could feel the malicious insanity sizzle just beneath the surface of his mind whenever he was around the man. Something inside him was always ready to snap in Heero's presence. That _had_ to make him insane, right? But one would have to be sane enough to recognize that he's crazy, no? He knew that Heero drove him to the point of madness, which in essence made him sane because he was able to recognize that insanity.

It was no wonder the jury didn't believe his claim; "illogical logic" was never valid in court. They didn't even give him the benefit of the doubt. He shouted at them that they were all insane – Quatre included. Why, one_ had_ to be insane to agree to pilot a Gundam, because only crazy people would willingly do what they had done during wartime. Then again, knowing that you've gone mad suggested that you're still sane and therefore qualified to pilot. That alone was a crazy assumption.

Quatre was no less insane than he was – and who would put their faith and trust in a madman's words if not crazy people!? Insanity was contagious; the whole God damned jury was _mad_! Their reasoning was just an unsound as his was. Everyone was against him except for Heero; he was the only sane man left in this whole God damned crazy world. If he wanted to be saved from his dementia, he needed Heero. And yet, being next to Heero made him crazy. He was forever trapped in a one _fucked up_ Catch-22!

Duo's head reeled from over-thinking. He groaned painfully, feeling his temples pulse with nasty headache. He's been thinking too hard, trying to make sense of a world that was fundamentally insane. He might be a madman, but that only meant that he was saner than the rest. He saw things far more clearly, far more simply. It was a black and white kind of vision: people were either with him or they were against him. It was up to Heero to choose on which side of the fence he was standing. If his actions that morning meant that he chose to be on his side, then he had nothing to worry about. It was up to Heero to make the choice: were they friends, or were they foes?

Troubled, Duo struggled to quiet down his mind and get some sleep. He rolled over on the uncomfortable leather sofa, curling on his side, facing the coffee table. He could not close his eyes to sleep. He felt uneasy in the silent and dark apartment. Shifting his gaze up, he looked in the direction of the living room window, wishing to look at the strips of light filtering through the blinds. They looked like bars, reminding him of prison, which was strangely comforting.

It took him a moment to notice that it wasn't the usual orange streetlamp light filtering in through the blinds. There was a bright blue halo shining behind the blinds of Heero's living room. There it was again: the Earth was shining out of Heero's apartment window.

The leather sofa squeaked as Duo stood up slowly. Everything felt so vivid and real. Still, he reminded himself that he must be dreaming. He stood up carefully, his gaze locked on the window for he was afraid to turn around and face the darkness he had seen before, where whispers told a terrifying horror story. He blinked, just once, and in a blink of an eye the blinds were gone. The window was now bare. It seemed larger as well. He was now standing before an enormous panoramic window overlooking the Earth from orbit.

His body went rigid, alert. He turned around, reluctant but ready to face the darkness. Instead he found himself standing in a large hall, an observatory room of some sort. There was no trace of the sofa or any sign of Heero's apartment. Pale blue light filled the silent observatory room. The air was still. Shadows obscured the metallic walls around him, some tumbling ominously to the floor. The low, steady hum of life-support vibrated quietly through the air.

Behind him, the huge panoramic window stretched from wall to wall, providing a breathtaking view of the Earth below. The glowing blue planet radiated just enough light for him to be able see a few feet ahead. Shifting his gaze down, he saw the shadow he was casting across the floor. He smiled at the sight of his braid's silhouette; he had missed it terribly.

The place seemed vaguely familiar. If memory served him right, he was on the MO2 satellite station, orbiting the Earth. For some reason, he was dreaming of the space station he and the rest of the pilots went to in the moments after the end of the Eve Battles.

He turned back around to look out the window, ready to search for a confirmation to his theory. If he could make out debris in space, such as the falling Libra station Heero had shot down, then it would mean that he was correct.

A person was sitting on the ledge of the large window, gazing down at the Earth. All Duo could make out was a dark silhouette, but he recognized the person easily. It was Heero. Not the pathetic _Hiro_ he's been getting to know for the past few days, but rather _his_ Heero: the alluring sixteen-year-old soldier he had admired for years, was sitting right there in front of him, washed by ethereal blue light pouring through the window, engulfing him in an enchanting blue halo. He was dressed in his skintight flight suit, the one he had worn during the last battle over Libra. His one leg was resting unceremoniously on the window sill he was sitting on, his other leg propped up in an angle and his arm resting over his kneecap casually as he studied the Earth below.

Duo felt his chest tighten at the heavenly sight. He didn't recall ever meeting Heero on the MO2 observation deck, but he thanked his rich imagination for providing him with the nostalgic imagery.

"There you are," he called without conscious thought, as though reciting something he had said long ago. His voice echoed within the large metallic hall.

Heero turned to face him slowly. His Prussian blue eyes shimmered dimly under the pale blue light. His youthful face and stony expression were stunning in their intensity. There were two patches of injured skin on the left side of his face, injuries he had suffered during the final stage of the battle, when he had blasted what remained of the Libra station into dust. To do that, Heero had recklessly piloted the Wing ZERO Gundam into Earth's upper atmosphere. The heat during re-entry nearly toasted him alive.

The young teenage boy sitting before him hardly resembled the _shadow_ Duo knew at present. His heart fluttered with excitement, rejoicing for seeing Heero – _his _Heero, the _real_ Heero – again. Wounded and battered, Heero never seemed more like a fallen angel than he did right now. Duo was overwhelmed by sight of both virtue and sin blending together dangerously to form the features of a boy who possessed the sorrowful beauty of a soul cast from Heaven and the alluring exquisiteness of a ruthless apparition forged in the flames of Hell.

The jagged knife was in his hand again. He was suddenly aware of its familiar weight in his clenched fist. He didn't have to look down to know that the blade was dripping drops of crimson, soiled with Anya's blood.

Heero stared at the blade meekly.

"Truth or dare, Heero," Duo taunted darkly, daring him to comment on his sinful deeds.

"You already know my truth," Heero insisted as he had before.

"Wanna know mine?" Duo smirked madly. "I was thinking about you the whole time, Heero. The whole time. She was a good fuck that one, but she moved about too much. I had to make her stop moving, Heero, so it will be the same. Quatre didn't understand."

Heero didn't seem surprised by his confession. Neither did he seem appalled by his crime. He simply sat there, observing him silently with a pair of cool Prussian blue eyes shimmering under the Earth's pale light.

Duo heard voices coming from behind him; muddled whispers approaching like a menacing flood. They filled the darkness stretching around them, rolling closer like a rumbling thunder. Duo turned to face the blackness, searching for the source of the jumbled voices.

All he saw was a dark void filled with glistening space-rations, hurtling towards him like speeding bullets.

"No! I don't want to remember!" Duo screamed, suddenly panicked, and whirled around towards the window. Heero was still sitting there, watching him calmly.

"Heero – it's coming! Please – stop it! Make it stop! I dun wanna know your truth!"

Heero rose to his feet swiftly. He snatched the knife from Duo's grip – and plunged it into his chest, stabbing his own heart. Duo watched the blood gush out of the wound, fascinated and mortified at once.

"It's okay," Heero spoke steadily; his heart bleeding. "I'll just forget. We can both forget this ever happened."

"Yes, yes," Duo hurried to agree, nodding excessively.

The projectile space-rations stopped abruptly in mid-air. Duo watched them fall to the metallic floor in a splattering clamor. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Heero, I knew I could always count on you," he said as he turned back to face his friend, but Heero was no longer there. There was only darkness; thick, black, menacing darkness.

"Heero?" he called and his voice echoed within the large metal-case vastness. "Where did you go? Heero!"

"Duo," he heard Heero's voice call from far away. He whirled around, searching.

"Where are you?!"

"Duo," Heero's voice resonated within the black void. He sounded distressed. Something was wrong.

"—DON'T!" Heero suddenly screamed, mortified.

"DUO – DON'T!"

"—DON'T!"

"DUO!" Heero's shout tore violently through the fabric of his dream and Duo awoke with start, his eyes flashing open as he shot up to a sitting position. He didn't even notice that he had fallen asleep.

"DUO!" Heero's voice sliced through the silence of the night once more. He sounded like he was in terrible pain.

Duo jumped off the sofa and ran to Heero's bedroom. He flung the door open quickly and stood at the doorway, panting. He saw Heero lying in his bed, writhing in pain. The young man was lying on his back, his broken arm sprawled on the mattress and his right arm clutching the blanket so hard that his knuckles had turned white. He was sweaty and pale, trembling with torment.

"Fuck, Heero – what's wrong?" Duo gasped and rushed towards the bed.

Heero turned to look at him with a pair of pained blue eyes and all Duo could think of was that he looked odd without his eyeglasses; defenseless, pitiable and deliciously open to attack. His insanity levels rose, crackling like burning coals scorching his mind. Weakness could not be tolerated; it must be vanquished – by any means necessary.

Duo swallowed hard. He closed his eyes briefly, begging the malicious thoughts to settle down. But with his eyes closed, all he could think of was that damn bloody knife and that terrible gash! He forced his eyes to snap open again quickly and took a quivery breath.

Heero needed him to keep his cool; he needed him to remain sane. He forced his mind to focus on the present. Heero was all that mattered now; he will help him despite the voices shrieking at him to indulge in the man's pain.

He knelt down by Heero's bed and placed a hand over the young man's quivering right arm, trying to offer comfort.

"Heero, what's wrong?" he spoke urgently; "How can I help?"

Heero's right arm flung up to grab Duo by the collar of his red T-shirt, using him as leverage to push himself up, glaring furiously into his eyes.

"Get me the FUCKING PHONE!" he gritted through clenched teeth. His fist was clenched tightly around Duo's collar, tugging the shirt forcefully with each angrily spoken word. His Prussian blue eyes, though clouded with pain, glared at Duo accusingly.

For a moment Duo was confused. "The phone?"

"Give it!" Heero rasped irritably and let go of Duo's T-shirt. He fell back against the pillows, exhausted. His eyes shifted to look away; he was undoubtedly feeling angry and ashamed of having to call for Duo's help.

"Heero, you don't look like you should be making a midnight-call to anyone right now."

"Stupid— so—baka!" Heero shouted furiously, grimacing in pain. "My leg... it's—" his voice was strained with barely suppressed pain, "—Something's wrong..." he moaned. Humiliated, he turned his head the other way so Duo will not see his anguish. He gasped and shuddered violently as pain racked through him. He let out a strained moan as his eyes clenched shut. Tears lingered to his thick eyelashes, some spilling onto his pale cheeks.

Duo had never seen Heero writhe under such agony before. He could still recall how, many years ago, he had witnessed Heero set the broken bones on that very same leg without even wincing. His high tolerance for pain, much like his physical strength, cool composure and resolve, seemed to have diminished over the years. It was yet another weakness which caused the darkness in the back regions of his mind to stir, gradually awakening from a long slumber. He fought to suppress and ignore it. Heero needed his help; he could not afford another insane slipup.

"Okay, okay, no panic," Duo mumbled, slightly out of breath for he himself was beginning to panic. "I'm calling an ambulance, just hang in there..."

He ran back to the living room. He dialed 911 and provided them with Heero's address, asking them to hurry. He rushed back to the bedroom, where Heero still lay in agony, clutching the blanket with his good arm.

"I called 911. They'll be here soon," he said softly as he knelt by Heero's bed again. "Just hang in there."

He reached for Heero's hand, the one clutching the blanket painfully, and forcefully pried Heero's fingers from their hold on the fabric to slip his palm under Heero's instead, forcing the tortured young man to grip his hand.

Heero turned his head to look at him; his eyes narrowed with anguish, tears still lingering to the corner of his eyes. Duo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but his lips were too heavy to lift. His heart was burdened, betrayed by the sight of Heero's open display of distress. His eerie dream still throbbed faintly in the back of his head, incessantly twisting his mind. He knew that he should feel for Heero's pain, but as he lay before him in a pathetic display of need and flaw, all Duo could come up with was a sort of an _'I told you so' _feeling instead of sympathy for Heero's pain.

He too had lain writhing helplessly with pain when he had independently tried to detox himself back in prison. He had prayed for salvation or even a single hand to hold onto, but none came. The experience should be enough to make any sane person sympathize with his friend's agony; however Duo couldn't help but feel satisfaction for proving to Heero that he _did_ need him around. Deep down, he gloated at the probability that Heero had lain in pain for hours before finally giving in and calling out his name. Heero must have felt ashamed and pitiable as he had called for him and Duo was happy to know that. Instead of feeling worried for his friend, he felt victorious over him. Heero deserved what he was getting; he deserved the pain, every second of it.

Duo smirked as he realized that now Heero will have no choice but to accept that he needed him as a friend. He will make certain of that. He will force his way into Heero's heart again; he will drive into Heero hard and deep, making him cave, shatter and break—

_'Duo – don't!'_

Duo shuddered. He forced his mental walls to slam shut and contain the desperate cries echoing faintly in the back of his head. It was only his imagination, after all. It was only his madness, a dream – a beautiful nightmare. He never made Heero beg like that; how could he? Heero has always been untouchable, unbreakable. That was what made him so damn reliable. He used to be a pillar of strength; now, the pillar was crumbling before his eyes. He had to salvage what was left of Heero. He simply had to!

Grabbing hold of Heero's trembling and sweaty palm, Duo wrapped both his hands around it tightly. He brought Heero's hand up close to his face in an effort to somehow get through to Heero – _his_ Heero, buried somewhere underneath the pathetic _Hiro_ persona.

"Heero," he whispered, looking down at the man's pale face. Heero was breathing shallowly with pain as he held Duo's hand like a lifeline. At the sound of Duo's voice, he opened his eyes just a tiny slit and looked up. Duo struggled to find a trace of the person Heero used to be, searching for a familiar twinkle somewhere in the depths of his Prussian blue eyes. It wasn't easy; they were clouded with too much anguish.

Duo sighed. It was no use. Heero – _his_ Heero – was almost completely gone. He had to bring him back. It was the only thing he could think of to keep himself going. Otherwise, all the future will ever hold for him was the return to the streets, drugs and most likely prison. He will rescue _his_ Heero out of the wreck of a human being withering before him. He will make _Hiro_ Heero again and then everything will be alright, for both of them.

"Heero..." he tried to find his voice again, speaking slowly, carefully; "About what you said earlier... about how we can't be friends..."

"Not... now... Duo..." Heero gasped sharply and he fought to break his hand away from Duo's grasp. Duo would not let go and Heero gave up. He closed his eyes and took short pained breaths, trying to control the burning agony in his leg.

"Yes now," Duo insisted, yanking Heero's hand forcefully with each word he spoke. "Because now is the only time you'll hear me out. I wanna tell you that you_ are_ my friend, Heero, no matter what. And I wanna be a friend to you too. We can chew each other out for all sorta shit, but in the end, we're still buddies. We've been through a whollota crap together. That makes us pals and I think that you wouldn't have let me into your home if you didn't think so too. You wouldn't have told that Preventer shithead to back off this morning if you didn't think I was worth it."

Heero turned to look at him, his blue eyes unreadable behind the pain. Duo gazed deeply into those Prussian blue eyes, hoping to find forgiveness, or at least some understanding. He found neither. All he saw was _Hiro_ staring back at him.

Dejected, he shifted his gaze away to stare at the streetlights filtering through the blinds beyond the bed. He sighed, watching the window numbly.

"I really don't know what else I can say to convince you that I mean well," he admitted quietly and felt Heero's sweaty hand twitch in his hold. He turned to look at him again. His cobalt blue eyes shone with an almost honest shine of sympathy and regret. "Because you _are_ important to me!" Duo insisted. "I_ know_ that now. I can't think of anyone else but you cuz... you're all I've got, yanno? And I don't want you to hate me like this."

With a sigh, Duo fell silent and his shoulder slumped down helplessly. He held onto Heero's sweaty hand, waiting anxiously for the man to respond to his confession.

"Duo," Heero sighed wearily, "I don't hate you, I just—" There was an urgent knock on the door. Duo whirled around to look at the hallway but then turned back quickly to look at Heero again.

"You just what?" he demanded anxiously.

"Duo..." Heero moaned distressingly. "They're here."

"I know," Duo rasped back; "so just tell me – what were you saying?"

"Duo, please," Heero grimaced with pain. His fist clutched Duo's hand tightly. "Not now..."

"Just tell me," Duo insisted even as the persistent knocking echoed within the apartment.

"Tell me, Heero," he commanded harshly. "Tell me and I'll let them in."

Heero glared at him defiantly. Duo knew that he was walking a dangerous line. He had just offered Heero his aid, his friendship and a promise to make it all better, yet instead he was making threats, denying Heero of the medical assistance he needed. He couldn't help it. Heero was just about to say something to him; something vital, something that could very well save his sanity. He needed to hear it. He needed Heero to say it. He will make him say it; one way or the other.

Towering over Heero, he leaned down so he could look squarely into Heero's anguished Prussian blue eyes.

"If you don't hate me, then why do you keep saying you can't be my friend?" He demanded harshly. Heero gazed up at him silently. His lips were pressed together tightly, refusing to speak. The paramedics rang the doorbell. Chowder howled loudly from within the laundry room. Heero's eyes shifted from the bedroom door to Duo and then again. He prepared to get up on his own. Duo pushed him back against the bed. Heero fell back against the pillow, wincing painfully.

"Tell me," Duo hissed, leaning even closer to Heero. Malice gleamed darkly in his cobalt eyes.

"I can't..." Heero whispered, shaking his head. "Just... just let them in already..."

"I'll let them in as soon as you tell me."

"I can't..."

"Why! What are you afraid of!"

Heero turned his head to look the other way, trying to avoid looking into Duo's harsh eyes.

"Dammit!" Duo exploded furiously. His arm flew up to punch the pillow, a mere inch from Heero's head. "Are you afraid I'm gonna go ballistic on you? Or maybe on your _son?_ Is that who you take me for – some no-good homicidal maniac?! What did that faggot Ozzie tell you?! That I'm some fucked-up nutjob? Is that it?!"

"No..." Heero moaned and grimaced in pain. He turned his head to look the other way. "I... it's not... your fault..."

"Then why da fuck do you resent me for it so damn much!"

Heero remained silent. Still facing away from Duo, he stared numbly at the wall.

Duo snorted in disgust. "Fine, be that way," he muttered disdainfully and finally moved away from the bed. "Fucking pathetic!"

Cussing, Duo went to answer the door and let the paramedics in.

* * *

><p>Six hours later found Duo sitting on a rickety plastic chair next to Heero's hospital bed, watching the young man's haggard face, expressionless in a drug-induced sleep. His lips were dry and chapped, slightly agape under heavy slumber. His lax features were a sharp contrast of pale white skin and dark-blue bruises marring the left side of his face. His closed eyes were red and swollen under thin bloodshot eyelids; his dark eyelashes rested delicately over pale cheeks. An oxygen tube was attached under his nostrils, aiding his breathing as he recovered from surgery. An IV line ran into his right arm while his broken left arm remained in a cast, lying limply at his side. After being operated on, his left leg was placed in a thick and bulky splint which bulged under the blanket. All in all, Heero looked like a damaged porcelain doll; due to his naturally good looks, the sight was close to grotesque.<p>

In the wee hours of the night, the hospital halls were dim and quiet. Only a faint light illuminated the small hospital room, located in one of the internal wards at Pennsylvania Hospital. It was a private room, which suggested that Heero must have some pretty damn good insurance; Duo didn't expect anything else from the sugar-coated life Heero seemed to be living.

Waiting for the young man to come out of the effects of the anesthesia, Duo observed his pale, ill-looking features dully. He shifted his uncomfortable position and resumed listening to the heavy sound of Heero's breathing, lost in thought.

The paramedics allowed him to ride in the ambulance with them. As soon as they arrived at the ER, Heero was rushed to the X-Ray room and then straight to surgery. Duo was left standing around anxiously in the waiting room as the three-hour-long surgery took place. Only after Heero had spent an hour more in recovery and was then transferred to a private hospital room at the Internal Ward, did the doctors allow Duo to see him.

An inflatable blood-pressure cuff was wrapped around Heero's upper right arm. Suddenly, it hissed, inflating slowly to take its hourly measurement. Duo turned a pair of numb cobalt eyes to look up at the monitor above the bed. He studied Heero's vital signs quietly. Everything registered normal: heartbeat and blood pressure included. Some nameless doctor assured him earlier that the surgery was a success and that there was nothing to worry about. Apparently, due to the accident Heero went through that afternoon, some damn platinum bolt – a result of an old injury – had shifted in his left femur and had caused some tissue damage and distress to the bone. The surgeons dove in and fixed it, so now all that was left was for Heero to come out from under the effects of the anesthesia. He was informed that there will be need for a little physiotherapy and recovery, but all in all Heero hadn't suffered any acute or permanent damage.

Duo would have liked to feel relieved at that assurance, but instead he felt numb. Everything seemed surreal. He felt very out of place sitting next to Heero's hospital bed. It didn't feel right to see Heero in such a vulnerable and fragile state; in a way, he had to admit that it even repulsed him. He felt awful for feeling the way he did, but something inside him simply could not tolerate Heero's weakness. It was just plain _wrong._ It was darn right _sinful_. The need to punish the sinners called for action; it called for the demons in his head to rise from the deeps and breach the dams keeping his insanity from flooding the rest of his mind. Once released, the flood drowned his psyche, filling his mind like dark ocean water filled a sinking ship. One compartment after another flooded with dark cold water, drowning everything under a thick heavy blanket of menacing dimness. Suffocated by those powerful emotions, Duo gasped like a drowned man out of water. He struggled against the dark storms raging in his head, fighting to cling onto something pure and sane that would keep him afloat.

_'It's not... your fault...' _He suddenly recalled Heero's words. How could he have known that those were the exact words he wanted to hear for so long? The jury never believed him. Even his lawyer didn't believe him; he was just doing his job. Quatre certainly never believed him. Only Heero did, and he didn't even know about what happened.

Or did he?

Wait a minute – did he?!

Marissa and Jerry certainly seemed to know about it. Was Heero in on it too?

Suddenly mortified, Duo covered his face in his hands.

"Oh shit."

Heero knew... He knew! He must have known all along! That was what his sick dreams were trying to tell him – wasn't it? He must have picked up on it on a subconscious level: Heero knew about Anya.

"Fuck," he groaned into the palms of his hands. Heero _knew_. That was why the man continuously denied his offers of friendship! It wasn't because of anything he had done to Heero – he has been beating himself up over nothing! Heero was just upset with him for what he did to that damn Lolita girl!

"Dammit," he whispered angrily. Heero has been playing dirty tricks on him, leading him to believe that he was a crappy and unreliable friend. Bullshit! He hadn't done Heero any wrong! It was all because of that damn Lolita slut! She was back to haunt him – the damn whore!

Heero moaned.

Alarmed, Duo let his hands down, uncovering his face slowly, nervously.

"Heero?" he dared to whisper the man's name. His heart thumped wildly. He didn't tjink he'd have to confront Heero about his charges, but if Heero knew about it then the issue had to be addressed. They had to get it out of the way so they could be friends again.

The young man's right hand twitched, his fingers moving slightly as though trying to grasp something.

"Heero?" Duo tried again and straightened tensely in his seat. Again Heero let out a sleepy moan. His eyes remained closed but his chapped lips parted slightly. He licked his dry lips and winced, turning his head aside in pain. He let out a short dry cough and then grimaced at the pain it jolted in him.

Duo watched worriedly. "Are you thirsty?" he asked just to break the silence. At the sound of his voice, Heero's eyes fluttered slowly open. He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus his gaze on Duo.

Encouraged by the obvious sign of consciousness, Duo leaned forward anxiously and placed both hands on Heero's limp arm. The touch seemed to jerk Heero awake. He gasped, rising slightly off the pillow, before he grimaced painfully and fell back against the bed, coughing weakly. He closed his eyes again, moaning miserably.

"Are you okay?" Duo asked.

"M-ma leg... hu'ts..." Heero complained in a bleary tone. Duo almost laughed at the childish whine; he never imagined that he would hear Heero speak that way.

"Should I call a doctor?" he asked instead, though he was still smiling. He couldn't help it; the whole situation was so bizarre! He felt awkward; the smile was uncontrollable.

Heero didn't respond for a while, but after a long pause, he shook his head 'no'.

"What—" he coughed; wincing."—happened?" he whispered weakly and struggled to open his eyes again. His eyelids were swollen and heavy; they refused to stay up for very long.

"You were hit by a car," Duo reminded him; "You busted your bad leg again."

Confused, Heero shifted his gaze up at Duo. "Car..?" he asked in a cracking voice, unable to raise his tone above a feeble whisper.

"Yeah," Duo grumbled; "some bitch ran into you while you were crossing the road."

"But—!" He was suddenly attacked by a fit of dry coughs which seemed to be hurting him for he winced after each one, struggling to control his breath. Exhausted, he fell back against the bed and closed his eyes, shaking his head in denial.

"Not... Ze—ro?" His croaky voice broke mid-sentence.

"Zero?" Duo echoed in confusion.

"I thought..." Heero tried to explain as he fought to keep his eyes open. "I thought..." he repeated as his eyes shifted to scan the room gingerly. Confusion was apparent on his haggard face as he narrowed his eyes, struggling to see. He tried to raise his head off the pillow again, but failed. Instead, he raised his broken arm up a bit and stared in bewilderment at the cast around it. His behavior worried Duo.

"Heero?" he called his name softly, "Everything alright?"

Heero continued to stare at his arm silently. "It... wasn't...b'oken..." he mumbled almost inaudibly. His speech was heavily slurred, an effect of the fading anesthesia. He shifted his gaze back at Duo, confused. "Why 's it... broken?"

Duo frowned. "I told you – you got hit by a car."

"When?"

"Dunno," Duo shrugged; "Sometime yesterday. You didn't bother telling me much about it."

Heero nodded, blinking slowly. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he closed them and leaned back against the pillow. Duo noted that the man's eyelids were very swollen. The swelling was getting worse by the second.

"Maybe I should call a doctor," he hurried to say and prepared to get up. "I think you're having a nasty reaction to the drugs they gave ya."

"Don't—" Heero raised his hand up to stop him; however his arm fell back against the bed. He was too weak to keep it up. Duo got the hint though and sat back down.

"Duo..." Heero moaned quietly, keeping his eyes closed; "You'll... stay?" he asked carefully, as uncertain as a child. Duo didn't know if to smile or sob. That morning Heero confessed that he couldn't wait for the week to end and have him out of his life again. Now he seemed frightened by the idea of him leaving. Duo didn't know what to make of it.

"Yeah, Heero, if you wanna, I'll stay," he replied with a weary sigh. After a short pause, Heero nodded his head slowly in appreciation. He lay still for a long while. Duo figured that he had fallen back to sleep, but then Heero's mouth opened slightly as he licked his dry lips once more.

"Is it... over?" he rasped weakly.

Duo sighed; he was tired of guessing the meaning behind Heero's muddled words. "What is?"

Heero struggled to open his swollen eyes, managing to lift his numb eyelids just a bit, exposing a clear slit of blue under numb and heavy eyelids. He stared painfully at Duo.

"That... girl..." he whispered shakily, his voice faltering with fatigue; "She... we... I... stopped... her... right?"

"Stopped who, Heero? I don't get it."

"All this... jumping... I... I fell and she... I crashed and I... I think I... I punched you? I shot her, but... not for real. You weren't real... and it hurt... so much..."

Heero's sketchy explanation was all over the place, but it rang more than enough bells. It wasn't hard for Duo to tell that the confused young man was flashing back to the battle against Marimeia, back in Christmas 196: the night he crashed his Gundam to end yet another dispute; the night he had punched him, rendered him unconscious and left for good.

Could this be? Was he really getting a chance to get some insight into what happened during those crazy hours of the rebellion? Will Heero finally reveal his secret?

Excited by the notion, Duo leaned forward and took Heero's hand in his. His palm was cold and frail; the skin was dry and coarse to the touch. Duo clasped Heero's palm in both his hands. He tried to offer the man a smile, though his heart was too heavy to pull off anything remotely honest.

"Yeah, Heero, it's over," he assured the young man; "You beat the crap outta the bad guys and went out with a _bang_," he said sadly. He was certain that Heero would rather burn out in a last blaze of glory rather than to fade away and become the wretched person lying in front of him.

Heero closed his eyes and nodded slowly, apparently reassured that his ordeal was over. After a moment, he opened his eyes again, frowning at Duo. "But you're... here?" he asked carefully, unsure.

"Where else would I be?" Duo chuckled nervously.

Heero seemed confused. "But..." he murmured tiredly; Duo could have sworn that his weak voice was trembling with tears. "I... I left... You... you... you weren't supposed to... to come back... It... it's... it hurts..." he moaned in pain, turning his head to face the other way, closing his eyes sadly. "It... took me... t-two... years... to... to walk... again and..." he sighed miserably; tears were lingering to his closed eyelashes. "No one was... there..."

Something cold and sharp pricked Duo's heart; an icy stab of pain - guilt. Heero's muddled confession confused him. It was hard to keep up with his irrational speech. Was Heero flashing back or not? Was he blaming him for something, or was he blaming himself? And why in God's name did he feel so guilty, so responsible for the despair he was witnessing? Why shouls he feel responsible if Heero was the one who left!?

"I'm here now, Heero," he assured him, hoping that it would ease the heavy burning feeling in his chest, hoping he might get through to Heero and finally sort through the mess.

"No..." Heero moaned mournfully and shook his head against the pillow; "Not really... here... not... you..."

"Heero, stay with me here," Duo implored; "I'm losing you. Are you angry that I never came back for you?"

"You... you should stay... away... Please... Duo... don't... don't... you... you forgot, but I... I can't..."

Feeling anxious, Duo straightened in his seat and tightened his hold on Heero's hand. "What did I forget, Heero?" He asked uneasily. "Please tell me. What is it you don't want me to remember?"

Heero stilled; his eyes remained closed and his head facing the other way. Disappointed, Duo bowed his head down and heaved a burdened sigh. He stared numbly at Heero's frail hand, which was still held between his palms. Heero had fallen asleep again.

"I can't even... say it..." Heero suddenly whispered; apparently he was still awake.

Duo looked up again. "What can't you say, Heero? What are you hiding from me? Please tell me. I hate seeing you like this. What was so bad that you can't even speak about it? Please tell me what I've done wrong. I'll fix it, I will. It's what I came here for. I want to go back to how it used to be."

"No..." Heero shook his head continually against the pillow. "Don't... we... can't..."

"Da fuck not!" Duo snapped, furious. "Give me one good reason and I leave you da fuck alone!"

"I... can't..." Heero whispered; "It... it wasn't... wasn't... it's not... not your fault..."

"What isn't?" Duo scowled warily. "You mean what happened with Quatre's niece?" he dared to ask; he had to confirm if Heero knew or not.

"Quatre?" Heero opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly, frowning. He slowly turned his head back towards Duo. He seemed appalled. "Quatre... knows?"

"Dammit, Heero!" Duo burst in frustration and jumped to his feet. "You're not making any fucking sense! Da Hell are we talking about here anyway? Past? Present? Future?!"

"Mostly the future..." Heero whispered feebly, making no sense at all. Duo stopped his animated shouting and gaped at the man lying injured on the bed.

"You're delusional," he finally muttered and settled back down. He rubbed his face tiredly, weary and upset. He sighed and turned his gaze back to Heero. The young man was looking at him silently through half-lidded, swollen, eyes.

"So tell me this:" Duo sighed; "if we're talking about the future, can't we just put the past behind us and be friends again?" he pleaded helplessly; "It'd be just like old times, yanno? When we knew that we could count on each other. I swear to God I can be that person again. For you, Heero, I know I can. Can't you see that you make me better? It's a used up cliché, but it's true. I can't think of anyone else I can count on but you. Remember how you used to depend on me too? We were there for each other once... Why can't we go back? What happened? "

For one blessed moment, Duo was sure that he had gotten through to Heero. The man seemed to be listening intently to what he had to say.

"Christmas..." he finally whispered his answer – and it was completely incoherent. Duo sighed, disappointed. "Christmas?" he repeated numbly and slumped back into his chair. "_Christmas _happened," he grumbled huffily, for it made no sense at all.

Heero confirmed with a small nod of his head; he was falling asleep.

"Right," Duo muttered with another sigh and covered his face with his hands, upset. The young man's coherency seemed to have completely slipped away.

"You're not even with me here, are you, Heero?" he asked, sighing. Uncovering his face again, he looked at Heero, his eyes shining worriedly. The man had already succumbed to slumber, but then as Duo fell silent he cracked his eyes slightly open, as though to make sure that Duo was still there. Once he asserted that he was, he closed his eyes again. Less than a minute passed and he suddenly woke up again, looking around for Duo. It seemed that Heero was actually afraid of being alone. Touched, he reached for Heero's frail hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Go to sleep," he whispered softly; "I'll be here when you wake up," he promised quietly. His assurance seemed to calm Heero down enough to sleep again.

"Don't let Ozzies walk over me..." he slurred drowsily and drifted back to sleep.

Duo frowned at the odd request. Heero was completely out of it. Should he even trust anything he had said?

"Sure," he sighed, "You got it," he promised Heero anyway. He still had no idea why Heero insisted on rejecting his attempts to make amends, but at least now he knew that the young man was driven more by fear than by anger. Heero was actually _afraid_ of him – and that scared him more than anything else.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 09: Forgotten:<strong>

"I took care of all the bureaucracy and paperwork," Relena informed him, "You are now officially someone else."

oOo

"There's a hospital in Philadelphia willing to take you in for the long run. Preventer has arranged everything. There's nothing I can do..."

oOo

"I'm so sorry for this, Heero... I'm so sorry..." she sobbed brokenly as her heart crumbled under the realization that she had just become the next person to fail him.

oOo


	11. Chapter 09: Forgotten

**One Week - Part 11/20**

**Chapter 09: Forgotten**

Late at night, the emergency room of Hôpital Saint Michel was buzzing with activity. The staff had been called away from their families on the holiest night of the year in order to pull emergency shifts. A battle had taken place in the ESUN capital, leaving whole neighborhoods in ruins and many casualties in demand of immediate medical attention.

Christmas Eve, AC 196, was the final stage of an unending act. Humanity was once again divided, Earth and Space fighting for a chance to rid humanity from a nasty habit of constant conflict, or to plunge it back into an endless waltz of war and peace. Terrorists had taken hold of the ESUN's presidential palace in Brussels. A faction had been formed between ex-OZ and Colony Resistance in an attempt to change the newly formed status quo of peacetime. Preventer was sent into the fight and even the Gundam pilots were summoned to wage battle once more, tipping the scale in Preventer's favor.

Now that the battle has been won, the messy aftermath remained. Red, orange and blue lights flashed within the ER halls, coming from the large windows and glass doors leading into the hospital. Emergency vehicles of every kind were parked outside and the wounded kept pouring in one by one. The atmosphere was hectic; doctors and nurses ran up and down the corridors, barking out orders as they struggled to deal with the large amount of wounded being rushed into the ER.

Priorities had to be set. The dead were left lying in body bags on the floor, resting along the corridors' walls as the medical staff first tended to the living and dying. Treatment of non-critical injuries was postponed. Exhausted soldiers in enemy and friendly uniforms alike sat together in a crowded waiting room, holding broken limbs against their bodies and pressing gauzes against bloody cuts until the staff will become available to treat their lighter wounds.

Gurneys were pushed hastily down the halls and into elevators, being carried away into the operating rooms. The hospital's ORs have reached full capacity. More priorities had to be set. Surgeries were postponed in accordance to urgency. More patients were left unattended once they were brought into the ER. There wasn't enough room to contain the wounded and no other place to transfer them to, for all the hospitals in the capital were full far beyond their capacity. Gurneys were pushed deeper and deeper into the farthest corners of the hospital; weary patients waited their turn in dark corridors.

A lone gurney stood in one such corridor, set along the wall, hidden in shadows. A minor was lying on the gurney, his skinny figure dressed in a torn pair of bright blue jeans and a tattered green tank top; both were soaked with blood. His scruffy brown hair was also caked with blood, chunks of it glued to his scalp, brow, temples and ears. Numerous cuts slashed his young features. His limp body had been laid in an awkward position, sprawled across the gurney as if tossed there uncaringly. His left leg was bent unnaturally; a shoe was missing from his left foot and his toes were peeking out of a white, dirty, torn sock. His bare muscular arms were spread out by his sides, bruised and bloody as well.

Two women, a doctor and a nurse, came running down the hallway towards the elevators at its end. Just as they passed by the gurney, the doctor stopped, looking at the pale, unconscious young man lying there.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked as she picked his hand up urgently, pressing her fingers against his wrist to check his pulse.

"He's been brought in from the palace wreckage," the nurse replied anxiously, glancing towards the elevator with a sense of urgency in her eyes. "Looks like broken bones. Dr. Benton said it could wait."

"Was he unconscious when they brought him in?"

"I don't know. He could have just fallen asleep."

The doctor hesitated a moment longer, looking worriedly at the unconscious young patient. She studied his blood-streaked face, staring at the large bruise on his forehead, which was slowly turning from a deep red to a purplish-blue.

"He's so young... what was he doing there?"

"I don't know," the nurse sighed. "Emma, we have to get going."

"Fine," the doctor finally said as she released his hand, placing it gently on the gurney. "Let's go. They're waiting for us in the OR."

The two rushed on, leaving the unconscious young patient behind. Hours went by in a frantic blur. Suddenly, the teenager's hand twitched. A pair of Prussian blue eyes flashed open and with a sharp gasp, Heero shot up to a sitting position. A jumble of memories attacked him; a cluttered replay of recent events flashing through his head as his mind struggled to catch up:

He was inside Wing ZERO, fighting over the palace. His hand curled tightly around the pilot stick. He pulled it back forcefully and _fired_. ZERO shook violently, metal screeching and groaning. It was falling apart. The noise was deafening. Consoles short circuited, frying. The smell of smoke was in the air. Electric sparks stung his skin. Everything burst into flames. Wing ZERO crumbled into pieces, dropping down fast. Powerful G-forces threw him around the cockpit as the massive Gundam plunged towards the ground. ZERO was drilling an impossible amount of information into his brain: battle statistics and predictions, risk assessments, everything. It all came rushing into him at once. The System was going haywire, collapsing. ZERO predicted that odds of survival were less than 5%. He was inferior, weak, _human_. No, not human – a _dog_. He was a dog. No, _human_. _Dog!_ Human! _Dog!_ Human! Voices shrieked in his head. Innocents were dying. _They_ were human; people he had to protect. Within the unbearable clamor, a single voice that was still his own sadly whispered_ 'I'm sorry...'_ and then everything went abruptly silent.

A last stream of images flashed rapidly before his eyes, slowing down gradually. Duo's face featured in almost every single one: happy Duo, angry Duo, ruthless Duo, laughing Duo, miserable Duo, fatigued Duo, injured Duo, concerned Duo, chattering Duo, sleeping Duo, smirking Duo, gentle Duo... and finally one last image stuck: _evil_ Duo was glaring at him fiercely, smirking darkly.

Impact shook his world and in a flash, everything vanished. By the end of the replay, Heero was convulsing on the hospital gurney. He fell back, moaning in pain, and stared up at the ceiling through blurry, tearful eyes. Even as his consciousness slipped away, a tortured expression remained on his haggard, blood-streaked face.

"Duo... don't..." he whispered a final plea before his eyes rolled back into his head. His eyes closed slowly, tears squeezing out between his lashes. The hospital continued to buzz with chaotic activity. Heero remained forgotten on the gurney, unconscious. Blood was trickling from his ears and nose, while tears slid down his pale cheeks.

* * *

><p>As the sun set over the city of Brussels and the skies slowly darkened, Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian sat hunched over a pile of paperwork inside a small private room at Hôpital Saint Michel. She was sitting in an old ragged armchair and before her stood a small plastic table; both were placed in the room especially for her use. An old desk lamp rested on the table next to a pile of paperwork. As the sun set behind the city horizon, the lamp served to light the room dimly. In the darkness surrounding her, the lamp barely provided enough light to read her notes, forcing her to hunch over them in order to be able to read properly.<p>

The room was silent, aside from the mechanical sound of the respiratory machine breathing oxygen into a patient's lungs and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. At the center of the room, lying perfectly still on a hospital bed, was Heero. His life was betrayed solely by the artificially-induced steady rise and fall of his chest being fed oxygen by the respiratory machine. Under the covers, his left leg lay inside a large bulky splint and his arms lay limply at his sides. An IV line ran into his left arm, where a finger sensor was clipped around his left index finger, measuring his vital signs. An inflatable cuff was wrapped around his upper right arm, to measure his blood pressure. Various wires and electrodes ran under his hospital gown, including a gastric feeding tube and a urinary catheterization tube connected to a bag hanging discreetly at the side of his bed. His head had been shaved, and was wrapped with a thick white bandage tainted with large stains dark orange of iodine.

Two months have passed since Heero was brought into the hospital. He had suffered a serious head injury after crashing the Wing ZERO Gundam on the Presidential Palace during the final battle over the capital. The brain trauma was so severe that doctors had no choice but to perform a hemicraniectomy to alleviate brain swelling. A part of his skull was removed, to allow his brain room to expand with the swelling, before being returned in a second surgery days later. His once unruly locks of fine chocolate-brown hair which used to fall over his eyes in a manner she had held so dear, were now gone. Patches of skin on his pale bald head peeked from within the thick bandage. He seemed small and frail, vulnerable; a depleted husk of a human being.

The digital clock on the medical monitor above the bed flashed 21:00 and the room was filled with a quiet hissing sound as the blood pressure cuff inflated around Heero's arm to take its hourly measurement. The sound startled Relena, who was engrossed in her paperwork. Gasping silently, she looked up, a hopeful shine in her blue eyes. Each little sound coming from the direction of the bed raised a new hope of Heero waking up from his long coma. However, like many times before, her wish remained unfulfilled as she realized that it was only the medical equipment she was hearing.

Sighing heavily, Relena put her pen down and rose from the armchair to stretch her legs. She gathered her long dishwater-blonde hair into a ponytail and stood at the center of the room, looking at Heero's bed. She approached it slowly and gazed lengthily at his lifeless figure. Never before has she had the liberty to watch him so closely without feeling inclined to look away quickly. Looking at Heero for longer than a few seconds used to be about as perilous as gazing at the sun. Her eyes filled with tears as she studied his expressionless face: pale chapped lips forced open by the respiratory tube running into his open mouth, the ashen shade of his hollow cheeks and his thick dark eyelashes resting against them gently as his eyes remained closed in a comatose sleep.

The bruises and cuts which had marred his handsome face had long healed since the crash. Thin, light brown facial-stubble covered scattered areas across his cheeks and chin; a very faint five o'clock shadow which a nurse will shave carefully once she will wash him in the morning. When Relena had first met Heero, he had been but a boy, his features smooth and youthful. Since she had only gotten the chance to meet him after long intervals, she has had the privilege of observing the obvious changes in him as he matured. During the past few years, and much like she had, Heero had rapidly grown from a youthful teenager to a nearly full-fledged adult. Although, at seventeen years of age, his attractive features remained quite boyish, even more so in his long oblivious slumber.

Reflecting back to the night two months ago, when he had come to her rescue, Relena was flooded with a terrible sense of guilt. Heero had walked out of Wing ZERO's wreckage and into the palace bunker on two shaky feet. While he had limped and wobbled heavily from side to side, she never would have guessed that the bones on the left side of his pelvis and his left leg were fractured and crushed badly. He stood firmly in place, aiming a gun at Mariemeia Khushrenada, looking much the worse for wear, but not as bad as she had later realized.

While his speech had been slurred and somewhat incoherent, she never would have suspected that he was suffering from something worse than a concussion. Even when he had fired with an unloaded gun and then mumbled something about killing the little girl while he hadn't even taken a real shot, she couldn't have possibly known a thing. Even when he had fainted soon after murmuring the incoherent words, she had never suspected that something could be so terribly wrong.

In the chaos which followed the moments after Heero collapsed into her arms, she never had the time to really process what was happening or what could be wrong with the unconscious Wing ZERO pilot. When the medics carried him away from the bunker, she walked by the stretcher, holding his limp cold hand. The medics said that he was suffering from broken bones and a possible concussion – that's it. They put him at the bottom of their priority list as they hurried to tend to others who seemed more seriously injured.

Heero had lain on that stretcher for hours, stranded on the field, as other men and women were taken by choppers to various hospitals around the city. She sat next to him the whole time, looking around anxiously, waiting for someone – _anyone!_ – to offer medical assistance. When she grew tired of waiting, she stomped towards the nearest medic and demanded that Heero would be tended to. An ambulance came and took him away. She wasn't allowed to ride to the hospital with the ambulance, for it was packed with patients. She had no idea where they had taken him. Later she was shocked to find out that even in the ER, Heero's gurney was shoved into some isolated corridor as nurses and doctors rushed past him on their way to tend to others instead.

If only she had insisted more... If only she demanded that they took her with them, then Heero wouldn't have been left forgotten in that damn ER. He would have been taken cared of sooner. The earlier a brain injury was treated, the better the chances were of the patient recovering. The doctors could not assure her if he would ever come out of the coma; the brain trauma was too great. If only she had remained by his side, Heero might have not been lying on a hospital bed for so long.

It was her fault.

It was her fault for abandoning him.

Like many times before, Heero came to her rescue. He came to save the world from war once again, and that was how she had repaid him. The guilt was unbearable, and so she sat in his room, night after night, waiting for him to open his eyes so she could apologize.

The rest of the pilots disappeared in the mess that followed the battle around the palace. Days later, she received a report that three Gundams – 03, 02 and 04 – were found destroyed outside of Brussels. A forth Gundam's ruins, 05's, were later found in a forest somewhere in South-East China. The four Gundams were destroyed by self-detonation. Heero's had been the only Gundam wrecked in battle, and he was the only pilot who was accounted for. She tried to locate the other four, but so far had little luck. She could not fathom a reason for them to abandon Heero the way they had, but then again, considering how Heero had parted with them at the end of the Eve War, she couldn't help but feel that it was to be expected. An eye for an eye: he too had vanished without a trace after the fall of Libra, perhaps they were returning the favor. She could only guess, for she knew very little about the dynamics of their small group. All she knew was that they all preferred to work alone and if Heero thought it was absolutely necessary – he would take Duo along.

During the war, she did her best to keep track of Heero. She even managed to track him down at one of the boarding schools he had infiltrated as a student. Duo was always there right beside him, so she had assumed that the two were as close as two boys of their status could be. She was informed by Preventer that the two had even teamed up again when the Mariemaia Uprising broke out. Preventer asked for their help tracking her down when she was kidnapped. Now that the ordeal was over, Relena wondered why Duo didn't stick around. Didn't he know that his partner was gravely injured? Didn't he care?

Something must have happened, some stupid clash that chased Duo away. Considering Heero's difficult and tenacious nature, she wouldn't be surprised if a dispute has broken out between the two of them. Heero wasn't a very easy person to be around. One had to be careful not to push him too far, but she had the feeling that Duo didn't really abide by that rule. The braided pilot was heedless, yet considering the time he had spent with Heero, she was certain that he knew how to handle him. Otherwise, he would have been long dead. That left her wondering what could have happened. If Duo was out there holding some grudge and waiting for an apology, he might have to wait for a long time. She had no way of telling him that Heero couldn't possibly rectify the situation. He wasn't showing any signs of even remote consciousness. Doctors explained that he wasn't responding to any external stimuli, including pain. He was only considered alive because some brain activity was registering on the monitors.

Her eyes shone sadly as she continued to study his handsome features. Hesitantly, she reached for his hand; it was limp and lifeless, but warm. She held gently in her palm, relishing in the feeling of his warm touch against her skin. Leaning slightly forward, she reached a second hand up to caress his face tenderly, sadly wishing that he still had his hair so she could gently brush his bangs away from his closed eyes, the way she had dreamed of and longed doing since the day she had first laid eyes on his remarkably striking features.

She missed the breathtaking Prussian blue of his eyes; she missed the intense fire that burnt so wildly within the dark-blue depths of his eyes. Standing by his bed, gazing at his lifeless pallid features, she sadly reflected on the look in his eyes that night on Libra, at the end of the Eve War. The way he had looked at her then, moments before taking Wing ZERO into the heart of Libra, was something she will never forget. She had never seen his eyes so expressive, so full of passion and care. While she begged him not to go, not to fight, Heero asked her to trust him, to believe in his ability to stop the war, to stop her brother from plunging humanity into darkness. His eyes shone with nothing but sympathy for her pain as he explained how her life was far more valuable than his own, how he was willing to die in battle if it meant that she could survive and bring peace. It was the first and only time he had explained himself to her. _'Please let me go,'_ he asked her softly and she let him, trusting him to be able to make it out alive.

As the cockpit's door closed behind him, Relena saw his eyes glimmer in the hangar's faint light. He was so beautiful; truly remarkable in every way. It was the first and only time she has had the privilege of seeing him that way, really seeing him for who he was underneath the callous training of a soldier: a heartfelt hero; passionate... humane. Although he held very little value to his own life, he still wanted to survive. She saw it in his eyes; his gaze hadn't been regretful about dying, but hopeful about living. That night she had realized how much Heero had changed throughout the war; she was proud of him for coming so far.

However, soon after the battle was over, that soft, small and hopeful light in his eyes vanished; vanquished somehow. The pilots' short stay on MO2, right after the battle was won, had changed Heero in some way. Just when she thought Heero managed to make great progress as a person, that he had taken a giant leap towards his humanity, he suddenly regressed and shut everyone out.

She caught him just before he was about to leave the MO2 station, bumping into him in the halls leading to the hangar where the Gundams were stored. He seemed to be in quite a rush and much disheveled: his hair was scruffier than usual and his features were terribly pale. His flight suit's zipper, which ran diagonally across the chest, was undone, flapping open to reveal a green tank top underneath.

When their gazes locked, he looked at her with a pair of wide, empty, blue eyes. She felt she was being sucked into a dark void. Surprised to see him so disconcert and in obvious turmoil, she somehow managed to stutter a faint 'hello'. He had swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat as though forcing down something terribly painful. For a long tense moment he simply gaped at her, panting shallowly through his mouth. She felt as though he was about to say something, but then he just bolted and ran towards the hangar. She had never seen him run away, not from anything, and the sight left her trembling with a dark forbidding feeling. She stood there in a stupor, unable to shake a dreadful, suffocating feeling that something was terribly wrong with Heero.

The next time she had laid eyes on him, he was back to his usual self: intense yet cool, distant yet selfless. A few months after their abrupt parting on MO2, on April AC 196, Heero had secretly left her a teddy bear on her sixteenth birthday, leaving it on her seat in a space shuttle just before takeoff. Turning to the window, she caught the sight of his retreating figure. She called out his name and, whether he had heard her through the shuttle walls or not, he had nonetheless turned to face at her. There was a familiar calm in his eyes, unlike when she had last seen him on MO2. He seemed to be doing fine.

Months later, a group of terrorists schemed to hijack the Gundams and assassinate her. Just like always, Heero came to her rescue. Much to her surprise, he had offered her a short, sweet kiss at the end of that escapade. It was her first kiss and what was supposed to be the most divine moment of her life so far. It hardly was...

The moment his firm lips touched hers with such decisive precision, Relena finally understood what she meant to Heero, and it wasn't what she had hoped for. She was his friend; despite the kiss, she knew that his regard for her was clearly platonic. There was no passion in his kiss, only desperation. It was a cry for help. His lips crashed against hers in one precise motion and his despair hit her like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, his dire need for her friendship loomed like a dark shadow over her heart. She felt like he was clinging to her as though she was the only person he had in this world. In his own bizarre and inapt way, Heero was asking for her promise to remain by his side. He needed her; and he was willing to express it clearly and physically. Even as young and inexperienced as she was, the moment his rigid lips had touched hers without a hint of romance, she knew that he feared her abandonment and he was unashamed of admitting it to her in a most intimate way. That was how much she meant to Heero and knowing that, she felt even guiltier for abandoning him on Christmas Eve; allowing him to be forgotten on a stretcher as his life slowly slipped away until all that was left of him was a ghostly, empty, husk.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

The touch of his skin against her body as he had pulled her in for that kiss still clung to her flesh like a phantom memory; forever etched onto her skin like a hot burn mark. That kiss had been his plea of her, his request for her care and friendship, but she was so stunned by his atypical and unexpected action that she couldn't return the gesture with a promise of her own. He had reached out to her in desperation, asking her to accept his plea and she froze, unable to respond in kind. There was a sorrowful, helpless but empathetic look shining tragically in his eyes as he had pulled away slowly. He knew that he had surprised her; he knew that she was confused, and he understood. He forgave her for her lack of reaction; however she could not forgive herself.

Her tears fell onto his bed, some dripping onto his bare, lifeless, arm. Relena began to shake, trying to hold back the sobs. Letting go of Heero's hand, she covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, letting out a choked whimper.

She had failed him. She was his only friend, the only person he had left now that Duo was gone, and she had failed him...

She could only hope that she could find a way to make it up to him, somehow. She will see to it that he will be treated with the greatest care, tended to by the best doctors. If only he would wake up from his long coma, she promised him she will not let him down again. She will stay by his side, if only he'd let her. If only he would open those enchanting Prussian blue eyes of his... If only she could see his fiery soul burn within the deepest blue of those exotic blue eyes, then she will know that there was still hope. She would tell him how sorry she was; she will return that kiss, promising him her friendship and more, if he so wanted.

If only he'd wake up from his coma and return to being the young man she admired so, then everything would be right again. She will be his lifeline, his one and only now that the other pilots had abandoned him. Relena promised both him and herself that she'll be willing to settle for his friendship, as long as he would remain by her side. She wished with all her heart that he would wake up and turn his silent gaze at her. She would smile at him sweetly, lean down, and seal that promise with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Relena entered Heero's private hospital room while talking on her mobile phone and holding a thick folder stacked with papers. Three months have passed since the night she had vowed to remain by his side. The room was a different one, located at the hospital rehabilitation ward. There was a large window opposite to the door, overlooking a green garden washed by golden sunset light. A hospital bed stood under the window, where Heero sat propped on a comfortable incline. He was dressed in a thin blue hospital gown and a blue blanket covered him up to his chest. The large splint around his left leg bulged underneath the blanket. His right arm lay limply over his abdomen and the other lay limply by his side. He has been bedridden since he woke up from his long coma and so he still relied on a urinary catheterization tube connected to a bag hanging inconspicuously at the sides of his bed; it was filled with dark yellow urine.<p>

Leaning against two pillows, Heero lay gazing out the window in a dream-like state. As she entered the room, all she could see was the back of his shaved head. His hair had grown a little; dark stubbly hair covered areas once hidden behind a lush mane of unruly locks. His head seemed smaller somehow, making him appear almost childlike at times. Without the messy locks of soft hairs she had been so fond of, Heero looked fragile and frighteningly skeletal. Sadly, it was a sight she had gotten used to.

What shocked her still, every time she stepped into that room, was the scarring on the back of his head. The bandage around his head was removed to allow his hair to grow and his wound to breathe, exposing a large angry red scar which tore through his scalp and skull, just above his neck. The ugly hexagon shaped scar was held together by thick black staples, marking the large section of the skull that was removed and then re-implanted months ago. The area covered parts of his Occipital Lobes and Cerebellum, a fact which held very little meaning to Relena when the doctors had first explained about the procedure. Now, four months later – one month after Heero woke up from the coma – it meant _everything_.

Heero did not turn around to face her and continued gazing out the window. Relena spoke silently into her phone, finishing the call, before she tucked it into her suit's pocket. Sighing, she walked into the room and took a seat on a chair by his bed, placing the thick document folder on her lap. She regarded him silently for a moment before gently placing a hand on his forearm. The touch of her hand gained his attention. Slowly, dazedly, he turned to face her. Their eyes met. Looking up into his eyes, she gazed into the hollowness within them.

The golden sunset light pouring from the window shone in his Prussian blue eyes, making them appear eerily translucent, in a dull, empty sense. With his head shaved and only stubbly hair covering his scalp, Heero's eyes seemed too large for his head. They were sunken deeply into his skull, surrounded by gray shadows and dark smudges under his eyes. The storms which had once raged within the depths of his eyes, that intense blue fire she was so greatly fond of, had vanished and was nothing more than a distant memory, or perhaps even a dream.

"Hello Heero," she greeted silently, struggling to smile even though she felt like sobbing. Seeing him like this still shocked her, even after the four months during which she had visited him almost daily. She missed the way he used to be; she missed the way his eyes said so much without him saying nothing at all.

"How are you feeling today?"

Heero stared at her blankly, his blue eyes gazing numbly at her lips long after they had ceased forming words. A moment passed by slowly and his eyes were still focused on her lips as though stuck there, unable to muster the cognitive power to look away.

The ramifications of the brain injury were brutal. It took him three months to regain consciousness. At first his awareness was apparent only by the fact that he began showing a response to external stimuli such a loud noise or pain; he'd wince or twitch when subjected to either one. Then, after a while, he would open his eyes for a few minutes each day. Those were very suspenseful day and she didn't leave his side for nearly a week, wishing to be the first person he'll see once he regained full consciousness. Finally, after many restless nights she had spent by his side, Heero woke up.

The first thing he did was cry. He opened his eyes, stared blankly at the room as tears flooded his eyes. They spilled down his pale cheeks slowly. Then, came the sobs. She sat by his bedside, gaping in disbelief as loud sobs wracked through him violently. He trembled and wept brokenly, bawling like a child. It was then that she knew, even before the doctors made the diagnosis, that she had lost him. The person waking up from the coma was not the Heero Yuy she used to know.

It didn't take the doctors long to determine that he had suffered extensive brain damage. He had lost his ability to coordinate fine movements; it was difficult for him to reach for objects and grab them. The doctors suspected that he had also lost his ability to walk, a fact which they would be able to determine fully once his pelvis and leg healed enough to allow physiotherapy. He had a hard time recognizing objects, whether tangible or drawn; he could not tell the difference between a cube or a ball, a fork or a spoon and so forth.

Also, his speech was heavily slurred and nearly impossible to understand. It took them over a week to realize that he wasn't even trying to speak English. Of all languages, he spoke to them in Russian, sometimes mixing in English words. Similar to the words he stuttered in English, the foreign words he spoke were also heavily slurred and difficult to distinguish. She could only wonder where he had picked up the Russian language, which he spoke almost exclusively during the first two weeks after the coma. One neurologist suggested that Heero had spoken the language as a child and therefore his mind found it easier to regress to that language when English words failed him.

As the first two weeks went by, Heero slowly returned to speaking English, which the doctors assured her was a good sign. Even so, his inarticulate speech remained incomprehensible. Even worse was the discovery that the words he spoke were often out of context, which wasn't such an encouraging sign after all. His coherency seemed to be deteriorating rather than improving with time.

"How you doing, Heero?" she asked again slowly, patiently; knowing that he could have been distracted somehow (she would have liked to think by her carefully made-up face, for she had made an extra effort to look nice today) and therefore forgot all about her question.

After a lengthy pause, Heero gave a small shrug of his shoulders as a reply. She has never known him to be a person of many words, but ever since he had regained consciousness, Heero spoke as little as possible. She had no doubt it was because he was aware that the words coming out of his mouth didn't hold the same meaning for others as they did for him.

Much like he had difficulty speaking, there were also times when he was unable to recognize the words spoken to him. On the one hand, Heero could answer Yes/No questions which were considered complex for his condition (such as was he a male or was it daytime). On the other hand, when he was asked to point at his nose Heero had shaken his head helplessly, indicating that he could not understand what was being asked of him. Similarly, Heero was able to confirm the answer to a question about a past event by nodding his head, however if he was asked about something recent, such as had he had breakfast that morning, he would shake his head and shrug in a clueless gesture.

The doctors suspected that his short-term memory was impaired as well. There were days in which she'd walk out of the room for only five minutes, just to get him something to eat or drink, and when she came back he would ask her who she was, or why she never visited him. Once, he had even asked her if she was "family" and that was the strangest question she had ever been asked. She didn't know what to say so she kept quiet and waited until he'll forget all about it, hoping that she had misinterpreted his words in the first place. Perhaps "family" meant something else entirely. He could have merely been asking her about the weather; in his condition, it was impossible to tell.

During the past month, Relena has struggled to learn how to interpret his gestures and recognize his new speech patterns. She took mental notes of words he often repeated and applied them a new meaning so that she could better understand him at times when he was finally inclined to speak. She knew that, to Heero, "walls" now meant "water"; "broke" meant that he was hurting; "soft" meant that he was tired and "need" meant "please". She had learned the meaning of those words through many trials and tribulations. The word "need" (meaning "please") she had learned through a particularly painful experience when Heero had begged her to let him die, murmuring the word "need" pleadingly over and over as he cried against her, begging to be freed from his condition, from his painful, frustrating and unbearable reality... from his very existence. She could do nothing for him but hug his trembling form and tenderly stroke the stubby hairs at the top of his head. She promised him that everything would be alright in the end, but neither of them had actually believed it.

Today was also going to be a particularly hard visit, but more on her than on Heero. Even after all she had been through during the past four months, after all the pain she had both felt and witnessed during the past month since Heero woke up from the coma, out of all those days, it was today she had finally realized just how much she missed the person Heero used to be.

Taking a deep breath, she mustered the strength to smile kindly at him nonetheless.

"You know, it's my birthday today," she said quietly, wistfully, and forced herself to smile wider, tilting her head sideways sweetly. "I'm glad I'm able to spend it with you."

Staring at her vacantly, Heero's eyes glazed over for a moment before returning to focus on hers. Their gazes locked and they stared at each other lengthily. She hoped that he understood what she was trying to say. It was the third anniversary of their fateful meeting back in AC 195. She would have liked to think that it was an occasion worthy of mention; that it meant something to Heero too. After all, he took the time to leave her a teddy bear last year. She wondered if he would have repeated the gesture this year as well, if not for the head injury.

Looking at him mournfully, she noted how Heero's eyes shone sadly. His lips parted slightly as he gaped at her, distraught. It seemed that he had understood.

Relena had also learned how to interpret his expressions more accurately. She could tell when he was displeased with something, when something bothered him or when he was too embarrassed or too proud to admit that he could not understand what was being said to him. After losing the ability to speak properly, Heero's features became much more expressive. He would make a sulking face when he was physically uncomfortable, eyeing the source of discomfort (usually the IV various tubes running in and out of his body) with dismay. He would give her this "funny look", a somewhat skeptic expression somewhere along the lines of _'are you kidding me?'_, when she would respond to something he had said with a wrong answer and he'd catch her in a lie, knowing that she had only pretended to understand what he said when in fact she had no clue whatsoever. At times when he would bother to try again, struggling to be understood, and she would nevertheless fail to comprehend, he'd finally give up and look at her with a helpless and resigned expression, gesturing with his head backwards and rolling his eyes as though saying _'it's alright, never mind, just forget it'_.

She never expected to be able to read him so well, but he had adopted a set of recurring expressions, designating one for each suitable situation so that he wouldn't have to speak. Right now, Heero was looking at her uneasily; his eyes shone with guilty sorrow. She was certain that he was apologizing to her for forgetting, for being unable to offer her a gift this year as well.

"It's alright," she assured him, struggling to keep smiling at him, forcing her lips to stay up so she will not be able to answer her body's need to burst into tears. "Although it was very thoughtful of you, I'd rather be here with you than to have you leave me another present without even saying hello," she lied, spoken like a true diplomat. Truth be told, she would have been much happier to spend her birthday with the person Heero used to be before the injury.

Heero nodded slowly, accepting her explanation. He turned to the window again, staring thoughtfully at the sunset. Relena turned to watch the golden orb as well, her eyes shimmering sadly.

"Have you eaten your dinner?" Since Heero couldn't eat by himself (he could not coordinate his hands properly), she would often be the one to feed him in the evenings. At first he had resented her care, glaring at her angrily whenever she tried to feed him, but with time he had learned to accept the fact that he had to be fed. The experience was humiliating for the both of them. Feeding him was a messy business; Relena felt mortified whenever food spilled on his chin and Heero would blush with shame whenever she wiped it away. Yet, she still insisted on being the one who fed him dinner, even when it mortified her. She wasn't sure why; she simply wanted to do something for him, despite his resentment.

"Would you like me to bring you something to eat? How about that chocolate pudding? You seemed to like it," she offered, trying to make small talk if only to break the heavy silence in the room.

When Heero offered no reply, she fought to keep calm rather than to surrender to frustration and despair. "How about cake?" she tried again; "I can bring cake. It's my birthday after all..." She could feel the warm tears sliding down her cheeks; she sniffled quietly, ashamed of herself. She should at least make the effort to keep strong; Heero would expect nothing less from her.

At the sound of her crying, Heero slowly turned to face her again, his expression blank. He stared at her meekly for a long moment, gaping at the tears streaming slowly down her cheeks. Then, much to her surprise, he reached a shaky hand up and managed to wipe the tears away from her eyes, running the pad of his thumb over her eyelashes ever so gently. She closed her eyes, fighting back more tears. She knew how hard it was for him to successfully coordinate such a delicate movement. His gesture was so wistful and familiar that she could hardly fight the sobs building up in the back of her throat. Heero had done the exact same thing three years ago, when she invited him to her fifteenth birthday party. He had torn her invitation brutally and he made her cry. He had touched her then, so unexpectedly intimate as he ran his finger under her eye, wiping away her tears. He had exposed both his deadly and kind nature to her in one single event. She fell in love with him on that very instant.

Relena let out a small, pained, chuckle. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked, referring to the threat he had made back then after wiping away her tears.

Heero looked at her with a most serious expression, frowned and then shook his head 'no'.

She laughed again, a bit lighter this time. "Good," she said with a small giggle and wiped her tears away. She didn't feel like crying anymore; whether intentionally or not, Heero managed to soothe her.

She turned to him with an encouraged smile. "So – how about it? Should I get some cake?"

He did not reply. Instead his gaze shifted downwards and she caught him staring numbly at the folder she was holding over her lap. His attention span was very short nowadays and it appeared as though he had moved on to consider something entirely different.

"Don't worry, I didn't bring my paperwork here with me today," she said, even though she assumed that he didn't really mind if she caught up with paperwork in the evenings when she came to visit him. She believed that even if she sat silently by his bedside, engrossed in various forms and reports, he still valued her presence. She would have liked to believe that her coming over almost every night comforted him and eased his loneliness. While she knew him to be a loner, she also knew that now more than ever he needed someone by his side. She was his only friend, his only human connection in this world; it was her duty to remain by his side.

With a sigh, she rested the folder against the edge of his bed and opened it, revealing various forms inside, which were mostly filled-out.

"This time the paperwork is for you," she said quietly.

He gave her a questioning look, similar to the one he gave her when he didn't understand the words she spoke, but not as blank. She knew that he understood her; he was simply asking _'why?'_

Pulling the first form out of the folder, she turned it towards him so he could see its contents. Like his speech abilities, reading and writing had also eluded Heero, but she didn't want to treat him like an invalid even when she knew he mostly likely couldn't read the form.

"Since I'm your legal guardian, I've opened a bank account for you," she explained, "But I need your signature and fingerprint next to mine."

"Bah...bahnng?" he asked in a shaky, feeble whisper. Relena's heart fluttered painfully. Since on most days Heero never dared opening his mouth to speak, hearing his voice ran chills up and down her spine. She loved his voice. She was hopelessly addicted to the low, smooth, near-whisper tone in which he spoke. It wasn't a shy voice, nor was his manner soft-spoken. Quite the contrary, Heero always spoke so assertively that no one ever dared disagreeing with him. No, Heero was far from timid; his tone was merely... quiet, as though there was something wrong or unfamiliar about speaking up.

A thin layer of dribble accumulated at the corner of Heero's mouth after he had opened it to speak. It oozed slowly down his chin. Relena reached to grab a tissue out of a box on the nightstand and wiped the saliva away gently. She noted how he diverted his eyes away shamefully, so she tried not to make a big deal out of it (it happened often) and continued with the conversation.

"Yes," she spoke gently as she used the tissue to soak the few remaining droplets of spittle at the corner of his mouth. "That motion I've encouraged the ESUN government to issue has been approved. You, as will the rest of the pilots once they are found, will be given a grant as a show of gratitude for your part in ending the war. You will receive the money in annual payments, the sum is quite reasonable." _Although it hardly makes up for what you've been through,_ she added sadly to herself.

"Consider it a pension," she continued with a fake smile, "It would allow you to live comfortably." If he had been healthy, she would have suggested that he used to money to go to school, just so he could be around people and learn about them. She would have offered that he'd travel the world, familiarizing himself with the planet and civilizations he had saved from doom two years ago. She would have offered to join him; she would have offered to be his guide as he learned to live his new and free life. She would have advised him to use the money to enjoy life, but that would have to remain a dream now. He was farther away from a normal life than he had ever been. It would take a lot of time and effort for him to be able to live his life as a normal, healthy, human being. It wasn't fair. Now that Heero was finally emotionally ready and willing to live his life as part of humanity, he was damned to be imprisoned inside his own body and damaged mind. He had made so much progress as a person, only to be left mentally handicapped and unable to realize his new hopes. It was cruel... fate was so terribly cruel!

She regretted telling him that his life would be comfortable due to the pension. It was a dreadful lie. Words were cruel too; one could never take them back. Thankfully, Heero frowned, giving her one of his "funny looks", the one which suggested that he didn't quite understand. Luckily, he was unable to understand the meaning behind her words and therefore was not offended.

She smiled softly and gestured with the form towards his hand, which rested limply over his lap. "Just sign it, Heero. You'll need to trust me on this one."

He turned his head to look at the form in her hand, staring at it thoughtfully. She allowed him to take his time to ponder over her request, knowing that it now took him long to make a judgment call or even a simple decision. Hopefully, with enough therapy, he will not remain so slow to be considered retarded, but for now, thinking and concentrating demanded a lot out of his damaged brain. She waited patiently, holding the form up in front of him.

Finally, after a few good minutes, he reached up his left hand, the one with the IV line running into it and the finger sensor clipped around his index finger, towards the form she was holding. He tried to close his fingers around its edges, but missed; his fingers closed over thin air. Releasing a quiet sigh, he tried again, only to fail once more. The finger sensor made it even more difficult for him to properly coordinate his movement. Feeling sorry for him, Relena gently guided his left arm back down and reached to touch his right arm gently.

"Here," she said softly, "Try with this hand," she offered, for she knew that his right hand was the more dominant one.

Confused, he paused for a moment to stare at his right arm, as though surprised to find out that he had two upper limbs. After a minute or so, he tried to grab the form again, flexing his fingers towards it until he finally managed to take the form from Relena's hand.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Heero placed the paper carefully on his lap, bowing his head as he attempted to scan the writing with a tired gaze. Once again Relena wondered if he was actually reading or just running his eyes over each line without comprehending at all; she suspected as much because he seemed to "read" it a bit too fast for his current condition.

"...now?" he asked tiredly; his voice was weak and shaky as he spoke. It took her a moment to recall that "now" often meant "where".

"Right here," she said, leaning towards him a bit, a closeness which seemed to bother him, for he inched away, leaning his body in the opposite direction. Trying to ignore the hurt of his withdrawal, Relena pointed at two empty boxes in the middle and at the bottom of the form.

"I need you to sign here and add your fingerprint here, next to mine," she explained softly as she pulled a pen out of the inner pocket of her suit's blazer. She offered him the pen and Heero turned his gaze to look at it with great reservation. She knew that he was wary of failing to grab it.

"Here," she said softly and placed the pen in his hand, which was resting over the form. Gently, she closed his fist around it, enjoying the warm touch of his hand.

"Just scribble whatever. It's the fingerprint that really counts."

Heero nodded slowly, even though he might have not understood at all. His pale features contracted into a concentrated frown as he flexed his fingers around the pen, trying to teach his hand how to hold a writing tool again. After five minutes or so, he was finally able to hold the pen awkwardly in his fist. Ever so carefully, he placed the tip of the pen on the page, though quite far from the box in which he was supposed to fill out his signature. His hand trembled as he struggled to apply enough pressure to keep the tip of the pen on the page and hold it in a proper angle.

"Right here, okay?" Relena reminded him quietly and guided his hand gently. She could tell how very difficult it was for him, but she admired him for trying; it was a distinct remnant of who he used to be. He doodled something meaningless by her neat signature, unable to keep within the boundaries of the box. A tinge of guilt pinched her heart as she realized that she had asked so much of him for nothing; she could have scribbled the meaningless doodle by herself. She berated herself for not thinking about it earlier; it was just that she was so used to him being capable, that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

Feeling sorry for him, Relena offered Heero an appreciative smile. "And here," she said and guided his hand down to the box at the bottom of the form. He scribbled something there too and then turned to look at her again, his expression docile.

"Wha... is?" he asked in a small, insecure voice.

"It's your new bank account," she replied patiently

"Why?"

She smiled sadly, knowing it would be useless to try explaining it to him again; he won't remember it anyway. "Just trust me on this one, Heero, okay?"

He shrugged slowly and then allowed his shoulder to slump down, looking tired. His condition also manifested itself in excessive sleeping; Heero grew tired very easily. During the first two weeks after he had regained consciousness, he could not manage to stay awake for longer than half an hour before falling into an oblivious sleep, snoring softly as he slept with his mouth hanging open, drooling in heavy slumber. Now he still slept for most part of the day, but his sleep was a restless slumber in which he tossed and turned uncomfortably, opening his eyes every now and then, grimacing painfully.

When awake, Heero was also very agitated. On most days he was extremely irritable and everything seemed to frustrate or annoy him. He'd snap angrily at doctors, nurses and at Relena alike. Once, when a nurse came to wash him, he had shoved her away violently, screaming angrily at her not to touch him. Then, on other days, Heero became depressed and fell completely silent, passively refusing any care at all. On other occasions he became extremely distant and numb, which was sometimes worse than his melancholic mood, for he was completely stoic and unresponsive. There were times when he was calm and even cooperative, such as today, but they were extremely seldom. On most days Heero suffered from emotional outbursts, sometimes screaming angrily, sometimes weeping brokenly in his bed.

He turned his head to look out the window again, distracted by something beyond her understanding.

Taking the form away from him, Relena peeled off a sticker-cover at the bottom of the page, revealing a dark inky pad designed to dip the finger in, in order to produce a fingerprint. She then carefully, ever so tenderly, took his right hand in hers and guided his index finger towards the pad, pressing the boney digit against it gently. She relished in the sensation of his warmth as she guided his limp, scrawny finger to the box designated for a fingerprint and pushed it down lightly. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at his frail, trembling, hand. His hands used to be capable of moving mountains; they were the hands of a boy who had changed the world. Now, those hands were useless; broken and defeated. She fought back a sob. The fragile hand she was now holding didn't feel like it belonged to Heero at all.

When she was done, Relena looked up and was stunned to see him weeping silently. Tears streaked his pale cheeks, streaming freely down his haggard face.

"Heero," she whispered sadly, looking at him in anguish. Could it be that they were just thinking the same thing?

"Why are you crying?" she asked sorrowfully. The words left a bitter aftertaste on her lips; they felt blasphemous. She never imagined that she would so often put his name in the same sentence as the verb "crying".

Slowly, he reached his hand up to wipe away the tears, smearing the dark fingerprint ink across his cheeks, much like a child. He then lowered his hand again and stared at the wet ink staining his palm. Her heart went out for him and she leaned forward, placing her hand over his dirty palm. She lowered her head so she would be able to gaze into his eyes while his head remained bowed.

"Heero?" she called his name softly, her blue eyes pleading him to confide in her. "What's wrong?"

She saw his eyes shift towards the form still lying in his lap, and then back down again. Frowning, she turned to look at the form as well, but couldn't fathom what bothered him about it so much that he was crying. Due to his condition he was quite emotional and it broke her heart to see him weep like a child over every little thing. She wished to pull him into her embrace, but past experience had taught her that he did not appreciate such proximity. She waited for him to calm down on his own. Again she noted how Heero's eyes shifted towards the form he had signed and marked with his fingerprint.

"Is it because of the form?" she asked carefully, picking the sheet of paper from his lap.

Sniffling, Heero looked away, turning back to face the window where the sun had set and the Brussels skies had turned a deep shade of blue. Relena studied the form thoughtfully, her eyes focusing on the doodles Heero had scribbled down next to her refined signatures.

"Is it about your signature?"

"...dun wanna..." he muffled miserably.

"The bank account?" she asked to clarify, confused.

After a long pause, Heero shook his head. He turned to face her; his Prussian blue eyes were still shimmering with unshed tears.

"Dhad..." he whispered hoarsely, lifting a shaky hand to point at his signature at the bottom of the page.

She wondered if he was referring to his inability to even write down his own name, and therefore his general condition, but something deep inside told her that he meant something else entirely. She was so tuned in to his every gesture, to every expression running across his gaunt features and to every tremor or emotion she heard in his voice, that she had learned to understand more than what his meager, slurred and mostly unintelligible words were capable of expressing. Frowning, she tried to think of what could bother him about the scribble he had made to represent his name.

"Is it your name?" she ventured a guess, looking at him carefully to study his reaction.

He nodded slowly.

"You don't want your name?" she deduced, frowning at her own strange question.

Again he nodded, bowing his head and staring down at his lap. "Get... brand... need..." he mumbled, closing his eyes sadly, sniffling quietly. She reached for another tissue to wipe his runny nose clean. She then pulled back respectfully and regarded him silently for a moment. She knew that he was trying to ask something of her, for he had said "need". The word "get" _could _mean "give", for he often mixed verbs in such manner. The word "brand", however, was brand new in her ever-growing _"New Heero Lexicon"_, she could not—

"Give you a new name?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Are you asking me for a new name?"

He nodded his head ever so slightly while keeping it bowed.

"But why?" she asked desperately, trying her best to understand.

"I..." he let out but his voice trailed off tiredly. Taking a deep breath, he finally raised his head to look at her. His blue eyes were filled with anguished tears. She could hardly bear to look at him like this; it hurt too much.

"To... make..." he tried to speak again, frowning in concentration, struggling to piece scattered words into a comprehendible sentence.

"To make what?" she encouraged him to continue but he gave her an irate glare, indicating that she understood him wrong.

"Okay, you didn't mean _'make'_," she sighed wearily, "What are you trying to say? Take your time."

Heero seemed doubtful and irate; however, as she continued gazing at him patiently, he must have calmed down enough to try again.

"I..." he began slowly, choosing his words very carefully; "Nut at... book... like... not like... dhad wid E..."

She tried not to frown; she struggled not to let it show that she was clueless about what he was trying to tell her.

"Canuhd bee... dhad..." he desperately tried to make her understand; "Nut wid E..."

"E?" she echoed, confused. "The letter 'E'?"

He nodded.

"Not with the letter 'E'?" she asked again, frowning in thought. "You don't want your name spelled with the letter 'E'?

Again he nodded, bowing his head sadly. "Like... looks."

"Looks?" she wondered out loud.

"B—_Boo_—ks!" Heero grunted in frustration.

"Books?" She echoed and he nodded, upset.

Relena struggled to comprehend what meaning that word held for Heero; she feared that she was misunderstanding him again and felt that she first had to confirm if that was the case.

"Do you mean story books? Actual books? The ones you read from?" She gestured the meaning, pretending to be opening a book.

Heero nodded. "Like... magic... yeah," he murmured as he stared down at his hands. The look in his eyes clearly suggested how troubled he was by being unable to get his point across. "Magic looks like... like waiting for night wid E."

"Magic?" she echoed in confusion. "Magic books? Do you mean fairytale books?" she dared to guess and he nodded to confirm. "You mean books one reads to children, right? With _knights_... is that it?"

Again he nodded and Relena thought she felt her heart crack slightly. He didn't want to be her "knight in shining armor" anymore. Heero didn't want his name to be spelled with the letter 'E' because he didn't want it to be like a knight in a fairytale... He didn't want to be a hero anymore. He couldn't be one anymore. Relena sighed, sinking back into the chair, feeling miserable.

"But you are a hero, to so many..." she cried sadly.

"Nuh—no..." Heero argued weakly, his eyes begging her to understand, and she did. She knew that he didn't feel like a hero anymore, not that he ever had. He simply knew that he was no longer capable of performing his duty; he was unable to carry the hopes of others on his shoulders as he had before. It was a burden he had carried for long enough.

"You are to me..." she whispered sadly, staring sadly at the floor. She wanted him to be her knight; she wanted nothing more than to be his princess. Now the fairytale was over.

Heero let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head in a gesture he used to tell her to _'forget it, never mind'_. He turned his head back towards the window, which now overlooked the dark garden and the rest of the hospital compound, lights shining in the windows of every building. The light in his room shone brightly as well, reflecting back from the window to create a mirror-like affect. Heero watched his reflection silently, a wretched expression on his face. He was upset.

Relena watched his reflection as well, sadly noting how ghostly he looked. With his features pale, his head shaved and his eyes appearing too large for his head, Heero seemed like a mere shadow of his old self. It saddened her greatly, so she looked away, fighting back the tears.

Heero understood more than the doctors gave him credit for. He knew that he would never be the same again. Apparently, he had accepted it long before she had. The revelation made her feel even sadder, more hopeless than ever before. She has always wanted him to stop fighting, but not like this. She never thought she would see the day Heero would simply give up without a fight.

* * *

><p>In the late hours of one gloomy Friday afternoon, Relena walked into Heero's hospital room, her face pale and her eyes full of sorrow. Slowly, she closed the door behind her and took a deep breath before turning to face the room again. The doctors informed her that Heero was having a "bad day". On such days he was unreachable, usually caught in a delusion which fooled him into mistaking the past for the present. It was hard to get through to him on such days; he could never tell where or when he was, which usually made him paranoid and extremely distrustful. There were also times when his hallucinations would make him scream, horrified and aching to his soul. Sometimes he would even cry, curling into a small ball, whimpering and afraid. Not once had he hallucinated about something that put his mind at ease. She would have loved nothing more than to have him re-experience something joyful, perhaps a content childhood moment, but apparently he had none.<p>

Thus, Relena watched helplessly as Heero relived memories of his harsh life. She wasn't naïve; she knew that he had been forged by iron fists to become the person she had met three years ago: a cold hearted, calculated and a most obedient soldier. She had met Dr. J, the man responsible for Heero's training and most likely his upbringing. J left an unmistakable impression on her; the old man was a monster.

It hurt her to admit that it was getting harder and harder to come see Heero, especially on his "bad days". She just couldn't take it anymore; she couldn't bear seeing him in such a wretched state. As much as it saddened her, she had to come to terms with the fact that Heero was no longer the person she had admired and followed blindly across the Earth and Space. Her hero, her knight in a shining armor, was now a broken young man; a far cry from the idol she had fallen for three years ago.

A sense of forbidding finality hung heavily in the air as she walked towards the bed by the window, where Heero lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling.

She took a seat by his bed, looking at him silently. Heero gazed upwards, ignoring her. His blue eyes were glazed over, numb as though dead. His gaze shifted slowly to the left, then to the right, like he was following an invisible pendulum. Relena wondered if Heero was even aware that she had entered the room. She sat unmoving by his side, staring out the window as she waited for him to notice her presence. She knew better than to try to snap him out of his trance. She didn't wish to deal with the consequences of such an act anymore; she had grown tired of seeing the horrified look in his eyes whenever she tried to touch him, however gently.

Her eyes filled with tears and she fought to remain strong. It was at times like this she recalled how, back on Libra, Heero admitted that he considered her to be much stronger than he was. She had complimented his courage, his ability to inspire so many to realize their hopes, and in response Heero told her to take a good look at herself before commenting about him; he told her that he was nothing compared to her. Nowadays, it has become a daily struggle not to fail him and remain as strong as he believed her to be, if only for his sake.

The Earth and the Colonies also demanded that she remained strong. As part of her political career it was expected of her to keep going even at times of hardship. The fragile peace that was regained after the Mariemaia Uprising constantly demanded her tender care. Heero fought hard to achieve that peace and so she fought to maintain it. She owed him that much for his sacrifice; no one else seemed to appreciate it. However, her work was difficult and extremely demanding. There were too many gapes for her to bridge between different parties. No one was ever pleased with the status quo and they all turned to her as a symbol of pacifism, expecting a solution for world peace. Now more than ever she knew what Heero must have felt like when the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, demanding that he'd act his part as a compulsory hero. It was no wonder he resented the codename he had been given; Gundam pilot Heero Yuy was an impossible image to live up to.

Heero had given the world all that he had in him and more; and now, when he had nothing left to give, he was the one in need for kindness. Relena knew that there was no one to offer him the strength he needed; no one but her, that is. He was her burden to bear. He had sacrificed everything for the sake of her dream, thus obligating her to see to his care. He didn't do it on purpose, of course, but she felt bound to him nonetheless.

Relena shifted her gaze down to look at his face. His features were always so haggard and ashen; depleted and bleak. Looking at him, she sadly realized just how much she missed the healthy shine of his skin and the sight of his handsome face. She missed his raw and coarse beauty; that unrefined brilliance of his soul radiating from his physical being. Sadly, he was not much to look at now that that radiance was gone. Oh, how she missed his wild, untamable locks of lush chocolate-brown hair! He seemed so eerie without them, without the scruffy dark mane which had always given him the looks of a child, betraying the presence of his fiery essence beneath the cold and composed exterior of a soldier.

Now, with only a thin layer of stubbly dark hair covering his pale scalp, Heero no longer seemed like the striking boy she had fallen for head-over-heels. His features were too pale, his lips were constantly chapped, his nose was always red from sniffling and crying, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy; they seemed awfully large without the shelter of his bangs and his thick eyebrows seemed overly bushy. She found herself wondering if he was ever truly handsome at all. Perhaps she had been blinded by his powerful aura, enchanted by the halo of his heroic strength, resolve and valor, by the intense fire burning in his soul, that she hadn't even noticed that he wasn't even that remarkable. As a teenage soldier, his passion and strength of will had captivated her; now, when she looked at him in this pitiable state, she no longer felt that attraction. Did that make her a terrible person? Perhaps it simply meant that she was only human – a vain, arrogant and disgraceful human being; a sorry excuse for a friend, a terrible person to have by your side a time of need.

Relena knew that it shouldn't matter that Heero had lost the once alluring shine in his Prussian blue eyes. It shouldn't matter that that spark which dwelled deep within the bluest part of his eyes had been vanquished. Was their bond so weak and superficial that all it took to make her lose interest was the disappearance of that light, of his striking good looks? True, she mourned for their loss, but she should know better than to give up on him simply because the look in his eyes had changed. Then again, it was that exact look that attracted her to him in the first place!

She recalled how, almost two years ago, she confessed to Heero how much she admired that look in his eyes. They sat together on a bench at the school she had administered at the Sanc kingdom. It had been a beautiful, peaceful, sunny day. Heero was reading in the garden and she asked to join him. For a few precious minutes they sat together like two ordinary teens, conversing. She told him that she admired him for being able to keep the intense fire in his eyes even after all the hardship the war had put him through. He had turned to her, clearly taken aback by her confession. His expression then softened, as did the look in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something in reply to her comment, they were interrupted. Relena often wondered what Heero was about to say to her that day. She preferred to believe that it was at that moment that Heero finally realized how much she cared for him, how much she struggled to understand him and befriend him. Perhaps he had realized that he had finally found a true friend in the world and that's why his gaze had softened so beautifully...

It was too late to ask him about it though; she would never know for certain what he was about to say to her that day in the garden; neither will she ever see that fire burn in his eyes again; nor would she see them soften like that as they encountered sympathy for the first time. Heero no longer seemed to appreciate sympathy; quite the contrary, he seemed to resent it. Even worse, she could barely bring herself to offer it anymore. She wasn't cut out for this kind of hardship; she didn't know how to deal with such pain and agony. Before the head injury, Heero was capable of shielding her from his anguish. While her logical mind has always been aware of his pain lurking just beneath the surface of his cool composure, she never had to witness it and so her heart felt free to fall for the illusion Heero had created for her.

Heaving a mournful sigh, Relena focused her gaze on him again, struggling to find something beyond the hollowness she saw in his eyes. She found none; his gaze was like a bottomless pit, a dark-blue void. Will she ever be able to cope with him now that he could no longer keep up his pretense for her? Will she ever be capable of discarding the childish notion of being in love with a _hero_ and learn to deal with real-life consequences of heroic acts? It seemed so easy for couples in the movies: a hero and a damsel in distress; a man willing and able to move mountains in order to save the day, to do it all for the woman he loved; a hero who would always come out of every ordeal in one piece and ride off into the sunset with his beautiful damsel...

Her perception were so distorted by images in the media that she had no idea what real life was like. Real life, real love, demanded much sacrifice and compromise. It required much perseverance, compassion, credence and courage of a kind she was never required to have before. She's been valiant (perhaps foolish and naïve) enough to throw herself into the heart of danger during wartime, but she was not so brave that she could face a man in need, a loved one in pain. She wasn't even sure Heero was a _"loved one" _in the first place. He was never really hers to love; the only reason she had him now was because no one else was willing to care for him, to take responsibility for him.

Heero's injury was a major wake-up call. Relena now knew that at seventeen years of age, she was yet incapable of offering him _real_ love. She was still too selfish, too childish, too desperate to hold onto the sweet delusions the media had always promised her. She wanted him to be an idol, a symbol, a person who embodied all of her hopes and dreams. She didn't wish him to be this ethereal shadow of a man she had only loved once upon a dream.

"It's done," she said with a heavy heart, looking at him intently, hoping he might snap out of his trance. He hardly ever did; not on days like this, not while he was recuperating from reliving his darkest nightmares. Still, she continued speaking; hoping that at least a part of him was listening to the words she found almost too difficult to speak.

"I took care of all the bureaucracy and paperwork," Relena informed him, "You are now officially someone else." She had appointed herself his legal guardian. Sadly, she realized that this is what she was going to be to him from now on – not a friend, not a caregiver, not even a true guardian. She will become a formality; that is all. She'll take care of the paperwork and finances. She will ensure that he is taken care of, guarding his human rights from afar. It was the best she could offer him. He couldn't possibly expect more of her, can he?

She recalled his kiss; that startling – _frightening_ – kiss; his plea of her, his request for friendship, for support and care. She was all he had and he knew it. In his own strange way, he had desperately asked her not to abandon him as well. He _did_ expect her to be a friend to him. As inexperienced in the ways of the world as he was, Heero knew that he could not survive on his own. He needed her to be his guide, his support, his... guardian; a true guardian, not just a formal one. She could no longer be the damsel in distress, much like he could no longer be the hero.

She regretted only changing the spelling of his name when she had applied him for a new ESUN citizenship. She picked his new last name randomly, but insisted on keeping his first name the same, only spelled differently. She simply could not accept that he will never be the same again, but naming him 'Hiro' still tied him to his painful past and to the role he could no longer play. She should have given him a new name altogether.

"Would you like to know your new name?" she asked with a sigh, looking at him grimly. "I hope you will approve."

Heero continued staring at the ceiling. She was certain that he wasn't even hearing her, caught in one of his delusions, but then, after some time passed, he slowly nodded, ever so slightly. He finally turned to look at her; gazing at her silently, his eyes shimmering dimly with the aftermath of tears. His pale features were stony, expressionless. His eyes were red and puffy from crying; he would usually fall this stone-silent after a harsh episode of hallucinations assaulted him.

Relena forced a small smile, though hardly pleased or relieved that he had finally turned to face her. The sweet smile was merely a reflex, a part of her diplomatic mask.

"It's Nakasone," she said slowly, "Hiro Nakasone, spelled with an 'I', not an 'E', like you requested," she reminded him.

Heero continued gazing at her silently. She could not tell from his expression whether he was pleased with her choice or not. She hoped he wasn't upset that she hadn't changed his first name completely. Would he understand if she explained that she didn't have the right to change who he was?

"I opened the bank account under your new name," she changed the subject; "The annuity payments will be transferred there every January for the next ten years. The payments are quite generous," she forced herself to continue speaking, if only to aid her fight back the sobs forming in her throat.

Heero turned to fix his gaze on the ceiling again. He stared at it numbly and after a long moment, he nodded slowly in acknowledgement, catching her by surprise for she was certain that he was unaware of her words.

"The other pilots will receive the same payments," she informed him, using the opportunity to raise an issue which she knew bothered him greatly, often to the point of furious outbursts. It was safer to raise the issue while he was calm and numb.

"Preventer finally found their location. I can use their bank account data to locate them, if you'd like," she offered in a hopeful tone, perhaps too hopeful, giving away her wish to find a replacement for herself.

This time there was no pause; he shook his head firmly.

Relena sighed. "Chances are that they still don't know what happened."

He shrugged against the mattress, indicating that he didn't care. Relena let another frustrated sigh.

"I don't understand why you wish to keep this from them."

Finally, he shifted his eyes towards her, glaring angrily; she had pushed him too far. She knew that it wasn't shame stopping him from contacting the other pilots; it was anger. The four of them vanished without a trace the moment the battle was over and were never heard from again. There was nothing she could say to justify that. She could only suggest that he'd try to contact them to see if there was some sort of misunderstanding, but he would hear nothing of it. Perhaps he was too humiliated to even try.

"There's one other matter," she added, looking grim. She waited for him to turn to look at her again, but he didn't. His bleak gaze was fixed on the ceiling again.

"They are going to transfer you to a different hospital," she said slowly, fearing his reaction, but he gave none.

She sighed sadly. "Heero... I'm afraid I won't be able to be so near anymore... I won't be able to come as often."

The statement was enough to make him look at her again. He didn't seem startled, upset or even interested in her words. He simply turned his head to face her and waited for her to continue.

"They're going to move you to the US," she explained gloomily. "It's all about Preventer budget considerations..." she bowed her head sadly, straightening the folds of her suit over her thighs.

"Since they've taken responsibility for your medical care, and since we're talking about something so long-term..." she dared to glance at him, to make sure that she wasn't saying anything too discouraging by reminding him of the long rehabilitation ahead of him, but Heero didn't seem fazed by it. Perhaps he didn't truly understand what she was saying, or what hardship lay ahead of him.

Casting her gaze down sadly, Relena continued speaking. "There's a hospital in Philadelphia willing to take you in for the long run. Preventer has arranged everything. There's nothing I can do..."

Slowly, she lifted her gaze up to look at him. Heero was staring at her, his eyes shining thoughtfully, still red and puffy from the episode he had experienced prior to her arrival. She was sick and tired of seeing him like this. She knew that it wasn't his fault; she knew that due to the brain injury it was hard for him to control his emotions, but still... it broke her heart to see the evidence of his sorrow, to see tears she never thought him capable of shedding. The sight of his anguish burdened her soul greatly. She couldn't go on like this anymore; she was much too young to wallow in his misery for the rest of her life.

"I understand that the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania is among the nation's leaders for rehabilitation." She knew that the information she was giving him wouldn't serve to comfort neither him nor her, but she had to keep talking or else she'd have to contemplate his suffering. Even more so, she needed to justify her actions, her betrayal and abandonment. She was only seventeen... Heero couldn't possibly expect her to dedicate the rest of her life to his long – if ever full – recovery. She knew that he'll understand, she knew that he will forgive her, but that only made her feel guiltier. She was only doing it to him because she knew he'll let her get away with it. She was such a terrible person... she hated herself so much right now, but that wasn't enough to stop her. She had to cut him loose, she had to! She couldn't be there for him the way he needed her to, so it was better to leave now, before he comes to rely on her even more.

"The Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation was actually the first established department of its kind in the US," she continued, "It is very highly regarded. I have high hopes for its doctors. I'm sure you will be able to recover fully with their aid."

Heero remained silent, simply watching her with a meek expression. She feared his reaction and waited anxiously for his response. After considering her lengthily, Heero finally nodded his head, sighing as he looked away, indicating that he understood; that she can _'drop it'_, he wasn't interested.

"I'll come visit you whenever I can," Relena hurried to promise. "Whenever I'm called to DC, I'll come straight over."

Heero shrugged, telling her that it didn't really matter to him one way or the other. Perhaps they both knew that it was a lie; her work will eventually drive her away from him and they both knew it.

"I wish things were different, Heero," she admitted miserably; tears flooded her eyes. "I'm so sorry for everything," she cried mournfully, looking at the scarred back of his head as he remained facing the window. The sight of the scar made her cry harder, letting out broken sobs. "I am so very, very sorry..."

In the end, despite all of her promises to both herself and him, she had failed him. Just like the rest, she was going to abandon him. In time perhaps she will even carry on with her life with him remaining as nothing but a distant and exotic memory.

Heero slowly turned to face her, gazing at her with the most compassionate look she had ever seen shine in his Prussian blue eyes... just like that time on Libra. His eyes gleamed under the light pouring in from the window, much like they had shimmered before he had left for the final battle on Libra. Indeed, he was about to wage battle again, she mused sadly; it will be a battle of a different kind, a much more dire struggle. She felt even guiltier; she had to force herself to look into his suddenly soulful blue eyes.

"...'s... 'kay..." he murmured softly and offered her a helpless, broken, little smile. "You forget... and I... I... forgive..." he continued sadly as tears flooded his eyes. She gaped at him, astonished by his sudden coherency.

"I haffta forgive you... I haffta... It hurts... but I... I'll just forget... It's not... not your... fault..." he wept sorrowfully; "I'm sorry... You can... forget me too... Duo..."

"Duo?" Relena echoed in surprise and her head jerked up to look at him with confusion. She now noted the delirious fog clouding his eyes and she knew that he was hallucinating again. Ironically, it was the only time he sounded so coherent, appearing so lucid when in fact he was unaware of the present at all.

"Oh, Heero!" she cried sorrowfully, unable to hold back any longer. She covered her face shamefully in the palms of her hands, letting out silent whimpers as she cried.

Was Heero still waiting for Duo to come back for him? Why was he offering forgiveness to a person who wasn't even there? Was he mistaking her abandonment for Duo's? They were one of the same, weren't they? She was leaving him behind, just like Duo had...

"I'm so sorry for this, Heero... I'm so sorry..." she sobbed brokenly as her heart crumbled under the realization that she had just become the next person to fail him.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 10: Faith:<strong>

"D—Du— he— he! Don't! Don't!" he cried out desperately; "Duo – don't!"

"Shush... Hiro... shush... he's not here," she whispered gently, as though speaking to a child. "Duo isn't here..."

oOo

"I won't leave," she whispered softly, repeating her promise to him once again.

oOo

"I know you'll get through this," she assured him, hoping her words didn't fall on deaf ears. "And in the meanwhile," she smiled softly as she took his hand in hers, "You can have faith in me."

oOo


	12. Chapter 10: Faith

**One Week 12/20**

**Chapter 10: Faith**

**_Seven Months Later:_**

Horrified screams echoed within the dim hallways of Pennsylvania Hospital. It was late at night, Christmas Eve, and only a few nurses were on duty. The Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation Ward remained mostly empty that night, for many patients had gone home, despite their condition, to spend the holiday with their families. Only those who were completely bedridden or those who were in need of close care remained in the ward. At such a late hour, all were asleep... all but one. A single patient's petrified shrieks tore through the nightly silence. His cries vibrated down the halls of the rehabilitation ward with sounds of terror and anguish.

The elevator chimed and a young woman stepped out in a hurry. She was a dark-skinned brunette, dressed in snug blue-jeans and a fashionable red sweater stretching over her voluptuous curves. Lush waves of curly dark-brown hair cascaded down to her middle-back, bouncing up and down as she marched hurriedly down the hallway. A grim and strict expression hardened her beautifully made-up face. She was dressed and groomed for a festive event, which she had most likely left in a rush. Her fashionable stiletto heel boots tapped loudly against the ceramic floor as she walked; the echoing sound blended with the cries emitting from the room at the end of the corridor. The cries grew more desperate and the young woman opened in a run. She quickly entered the room from which they came.

"Marissa!" a nurse called out with relief. The middle-aged woman was standing by the single hospital bed occupying the dimly lit room, struggling to restrain a patient who fought against her, screaming and weeping in despair. The young man was thrashing in his hospital bed, sheets and blankets tangled around him as he fought to break free. He whimpered and wailed distraughtly, flinging his skinny arms up in the air hysterically, as though trying to fight-off an invisible assailant. His long, untrimmed bangs clung to his face, soaked with tears and sweat. His wild Prussian blue eyes shifted around the room frantically, fearfully. His screams were loud, desperate and tortured; they came out in a shrieking, high-pitched tone, much like a wounded animal.

"Thank God you're finally here!" the nurse gasped as she fought to hold the young patient down. "I don't know what happened!" the middle-aged nurse exclaimed as she clutched her hands around his brittle wrists and struggled to contain his violent thrashing; he was still waving his arms wildly, sobbing brokenly.

"He just started screaming allova sudden! One minute I was wishing him goodnight and a merry Christmas and the next thing I know he's like this! I'm sorry I called you away from Midnight Mass, but I just didn't know what else to do!"

Standing at the doorway, the young Hispanic woman wasted no more time. She hurried towards the bed and took the patient's hands in hers, releasing him from the nurse's hold.

"It's alright, Liz," she said softly, speaking with a heavy Spanish accent. "I have him."

The older woman nodded eagerly, thankful for being relieved from the task of tending to the difficult patient. She stepped back and allowed the younger woman to take charge. She watched silently as Marissa leaned over the patient, who was still thrashing violently, weeping. Holding his wrists in both her hands, she gently guided his arms down. Gradually, the young man's screams died out to quiet, painful, sobs. He wept silently, looking up at the young woman with a pair of tearful Prussian blue eyes.

"D—Du— he— he!" the young patient hiccupped, crying and shaking his head in denial. "Don't!" he sobbed and clutched his head, his fists grabbing a handful of wild brown hair. His whole body shuddered. He closed his eyes tightly, pulling at his hair and shaking his head dreadfully. "Don't!" he begged desperately; "Duo – don't!"

The young Latin woman's eyes shone sadly. Leaning towards him (but not too close so she wouldn't startle him) Marissa stroked his hair tenderly, whispering soft words to him: "Shush... Hiro... shush... he's not here," she whispered gently, as though speaking to a child. "Duo isn't here..."

The nurse watched in awe as the young man calmed and his weeping gradually ceased. Slowly, he let go of his hair and let his arms down. Falling silent, he stared up at the woman leaning over him, his tearful Prussian blue eyes shining sorrowfully.

"Shush... it's okay," Marissa soothed, petting his hair caringly. "It's okay, Hiro. He's not here. It's just us here. It's just me and Nurse Shane."

The young man sniffled loudly. His tear-bleary eyes scanned the room timidly. A moment passed in which none of the room's occupants dared say a word or even move. The older woman stood by the door, anxiously waiting to see whether the patient will burst into tears and screams once again. Marissa remained close to him, standing by his bed, caressing his hair gently.

After some time, Hiro turned to her, his eyes shining with a sheepish apology. She smiled kindly at him, running her long fingers through his thick brown hair, brushing against a lumpy scar at the back of his head.

"It's okay," she whispered sympathetically and leaned further down to pull him into a close hug. "I know you're sorry," she spoke softly to him as she guided his head to rest against her bountiful chest, like a mother embracing her child. "You shouldn't be."

He trembled as he leaned into her warm embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. She felt him slump against her in exhaustion and release a sigh into the hollow of her neck. His feathery breath caressed her skin and she felt compelled to draw his frail body closer.

"Ri—Rissa..." he wept in a trembling voice and closed his eyes tightly, as though shutting out a terrible vision. Fat tears overflowed, squeezing from his clenched eyes. They soaked Marissa's red sweater as he leaned closer to her, wrapping his skinny arms around her full and curvy waist. Sensing the intimacy of the moment, Nurse Shane stepped away respectfully, leaving the room.

"I shouldn't have left you alone... not tonight," Marissa apologized and held him even tighter. "I shouldn't have gone home... I'm sorry, Hiro," she turned her head and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. His skin was warm and moist with fever. She felt tears well in the back of her eyes and a lump was forming in the back of her throat. She ran her fingers softly through his hair, smiling in apology.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when this happened," she whispered and pulled away some, just enough so she could look into his eyes. He leaned back as well and gazed at her silently with a pair of anguished and tearful blue eyes.

"I..." he let out and his voice faded into silence. He cast his gaze down, ashamed. He stared at the blanket he had thrown to the floor in a fit of fear and anger. "This... I..." he mumbled, sniffling. "I... I... j-ju-jmped..."

Marissa nodded in understanding. She took a seat by his side on the bed and reached for his hand. She held it gently in hers and gave it a light squeeze.

"It's okay," she assured him once more, "I know."

"Sh—she... that... her... she bolt... ouch... scared," he murmured, keeping his head bowed shamefully.

Marissa smiled reassuringly. "Nurse Shane is new here, that's all. She doesn't know."

He sighed, nodding his head, accepting her comforting explanation. Marissa smiled sadly and gave his palm another squeeze. "Go back to sleep," she whispered soothingly, "I'll be here."

He lay back down carefully, mindful of his left leg which lay limply and lifelessly on the bed; he was still unable to move it. Marissa picked the blanket up from the floor. She covered him carefully, making sure he is comfortable and warm. She took a seat on a chair by his bed, holding his hand.

"I'll stay here tonight, so just go back to sleep. He won't bother you again."

"...'smas..." Hiro murmured sleepily; his tone suggested that he was trying to give her an explanation.

"Christmas..." she repeated with a knowing sigh and then smiled sadly, helplessly; "Yes, I know." She squeezing his frail hand tightly. "I should have stayed here with you, especially tonight. I'm so sorry, Hiro."

"N—nnuh..." he slurred heavily, tired; "N—no... don't... don't go..." he moaned as slumber engulfed him.

"I'm not going anywhere, you're just falling asleep," she explained and reached a hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of his weary eyes, soothing him back to sleep. "Shush... just sleep. I'm here. I'm right here."

Nodding thankfully, he closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him. Then, after only a short moment, he opened his eyes again, to make sure she was still there. She smiled at him softly.

"I'm still here," she assured him, giving his hand another squeeze. "I won't leave you."

He didn't look reassured. He gazed up at her wretchedly, tired, but refusing to close his bloodshot eyes. Marissa looked deeply into his eyes, trying to reassure him that she will remain by his side, guarding his sleep from the demons that tormented him day and night. She studied his pale, gaunt face and her heart twitched at his forlorn sight. Slowly, her body began to move. Leaning down slowly towards him, she stopped an inch from his face. His Prussian blue eyes were all she could see. He gazed into her eyes nervously, unsure. There were things he would have probably said if he was able to. He swallowed, apprehensive of her closeness. She watched his Adam's apple move up and down his overly slim throat; he was nervous, as he often was when someone came so near. His eyes darted sideways, glancing uneasily at the empty room, and then back at her. They were still moist with tears, shimmering in the dim night-light over his bed.

Leaning closely to his face, she smiled at him.

"I won't leave," she whispered softly, repeating her promise to him once again. Things had to be said clearly and plainly to him, often more than a couple of times before they stuck.

He nodded numbly, his wide eyes watching her closely. There was much awareness in them now; he was no longer caught in the sticky webs of his nightmare, using her as an anchor to reality, to the here and now.

"Go back to sleep," she spoke tenderly and tucked the blanket around him. His eyes followed her every movement until he finally relaxed against the bed. Marissa remained seated by his bedside, holding his hand, guarding his sleep as light broke at the dawn of a snowy Christmas Day, AC 197.

* * *

><p>Pleasant springtime sunshine washed over the redwhite ancient Victorian buildings of Pennsylvania Hospital. The large eighteenth century structures were surrounded by lush green grass areas, white gravel paths and colorful flower beds. Artistically crafted white stone benches were scattered along the gravel trails surrounding the garden. Summer was right around the corner and soft warm sunshine caressed the lush green treetops, engulfing the garden in a warm honey-like coat. The air was fresh and crisp, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. Insects hummed as they circled the lush colorful flowerbeds. Birds chirped merrily as they flew from tree to tree. A new sound invaded the serene atmosphere, the sound of footsteps against the white gravel path.

A woman was walking across the garden; her simple white canvas shoes grinded the gravel as she walked, disturbing the pleasant silence. Sheer white pantyhose hugged her well-toned legs tightly, disappearing under the cover of a professional white boxer skirt – a nurse's uniform. The white uniforms hugged her healthy round figure, emphasizing her sensational curves.

The dark-skinned nurse was carrying two small plastic containers in her tanned hands. Her lush hair was gathered into a thick ponytail resting over one shoulder and her chest in a heap of dark-brown curls. She made her way towards one of the white stone benches along the trail. A young patient was sitting on a wheelchair by the bench and when she spotted him, her lips lifted with a graceful smile.

The young man was dressed in a blue plaid robe over his green hospital pajamas and a pair of green hospital slippers. His head was bowed slightly, his gaze directed at a colorful children's book resting on his lap. His messy hair and lengthy wild bangs were tousled gently by a warm breeze, obscuring his vision. He reached a hand up to brush them aside and rested it back down over the open book. His index finger traced the large printed words slowly and carefully as he read. The scrawny digit paused under a long word every now and then before continuing tracing the rest of the sentence. His lips formed the words he was reading, whispered them quietly.

"Hola Hiro," she greeted softly and took a seat on the bench, sitting on the edge closest to Hiro. Her dark-brown eyes shone affectionately as she gazed upon him. A frown creased his gaunt features as he read. A look of utter concentration gleamed in his Prussian blue eyes. His thin lips formed the words carefully, sometimes whispering them, sometimes mouthing them soundlessly.

A summer breeze blew by, caressing them both with a gush of pleasant warmth, tousling her luxurious dark curls and his unruly hair. She watched him as he pushed a few stands of hairs out of his eyes casually, keeping his head bowed as he continued reading, mumbling the words quietly. He was training his tongue, exercising his pronunciation, as part of the speech therapy he had been undergoing for the past year, ever since he had been transferred to the hospital's rehabilitation ward last spring.

"I brought you lunch," she informed him as she used one of the two plastic containers she was holding to nudge his arm gently to gain his attention. Hiro had a tendency to lose himself while absorbed in an activity; he would concentrate hard on a task and thus forget that the world continued to exist around him. That was why, when he finally raised his head to look at her, his Prussian blue eyes widened with revelation.

"M—Marissa," he breathed her name out in surprise. Marissa smiled. He was quite endearing, especially when he was perplexed. He was eight years younger than her, only eighteen, and, in many ways, he was still a boy. He had been committed to the rehabilitation ward a few months after the battle over the ESUN capital. When he first arrived at the ward, he was still bedridden and completely dependent on other's care. She had fed him, bathed him, clothed him and groomed him daily. Back then, Hiro used to be completely stoic, unresponsive to either her or the doctors. He simply lay in bed, staring numbly out the window, passively allowing her to do her job. Thankfully, much has changed since then.

Even though he was committed to the ward as a minor, no one ever visited him. Marissa soon learned that the boy had no relatives of any kind, nor a friend or a guardian who had custody over him. Rumors around the ward told of an important political figure who served as his legal guardian, but the only evidence of this so-called _guardian_ were her signatures on the various forms regarding Hiro's treatment. No one has ever seen her visiting the ward.

Everyone working at the ward knew that rehabilitation from a serious brain injury simply had to be a team effort. Other than the medical professionals, it usually involved the patient's family and social support system. Hiro had no such support and thus he didn't make any progress towards neuro-rehabilitation. He refused to cooperate with his doctors, even aggressively at times. He rejected physiotherapy, psychotherapy and speech therapy. He bluntly refused any restorative rehabilitation treatments required to aid in his cognitive and neuropsychological rehabilitation. No matter how much encouragement the medical staff tried to offer, he didn't even bother trying.

Dr. Alan Grabelsky – the head of the ward – had just about given up on Hiro. Over coffee in the rec-room, he had confided in her that if they couldn't get Hiro to cooperate soon, they might miss the window of opportunity for his neuropsychological rehabilitation, which was most affective during the first year after brain damage has occurred. Feeling sorry that such a young man – barely out of his teens – was willing to give up on life, Marissa decided to take action. While she might have not had the time or money to become the doctor she had always dreamed of being and was only be a nurse on minimum wage, she was still in a position to do some good; she could still save a life. And so, Marissa appointed herself as Hiro's social support, as both his caregiver and his friend.

She began spending every lunch hour in his room instead of the cafeteria. Since he was never inclined to speak with her (he barely even turned away from the window to spare her a glance), Marissa simply kept him silent company as she nibbled on a sandwich. After two weeks or so, Hiro had turned to her, frowning, and warily asked _'why?'_ She just smiled and shrugged helplessly, indicating that there was no particular reason for her being there. She feared that he would reject her if he thought she was acting out of pity. Confused by her response, Hiro had turned back to gaze thoughtfully out the window. The next day, he wasn't staring out the window when she entered the room. Instead, his gaze was fixed at the door, awaiting her arrival.

Reassured, Marissa took her efforts up a notch. At least twice or thrice a week she stayed at the ward after her shift ended and kept him company for an hour or two. While Hiro never regarded her with more than a curious or confused glance, he never complained about her presence either. In fact, he accepted her company quite peacefully. Even if she simply sat by his bedside and read a novel quietly, her being there seemed to ease his heart somehow, and so she had persisted visiting his room.

For the first few weeks, they mostly watched television together in the evenings, never exchanging a word. At some point she got over her awkwardness and began speaking to him, telling him about life outside the hospital. Hiro was unable to speak coherently, but he did listen intently to what she had to say, gazing at her with a pair of inquisitive Prussian blue eyes. She soon learned that Hiro was very concerned about global affairs and she did her best to update him on whatever story was making headlines that day. Sometimes she read him from the newspaper. As the weeks went by, Marissa found that the quiet evenings they spent together became less than a personal commitment and more of an enjoyable pass-time, even if she just sat by his side, reading silently while he slept.

Due to his condition, Hiro slept for most parts of the day. Even so, Marissa persisted in her regular visiting hours without fail. She wanted to be there in case he opened his eyes however briefly; she didn't want him to think that she would only be there if he was awake. She wanted him to know that the time she spent in his room was dedicated solely to him. Routine was essential for patients recovering from brain damage. Her punctuality and devotion bettered Hiro somehow. He seemed much more aware of his surroundings, suddenly lucid as he waited for her anticipated visit. She brought order to Hiro's muddled world. Dr. Grabelsky supported her efforts to encourage the young patient to make the initial steps towards recovery. Her presence gave Hiro an incentive to start coping with his condition. Struggling with jumbled words, he even dared speaking to her. Eventually, he even accepted the assistance of a speech therapist.

While his pronunciation became much more articulate, for a long time Hiro remained very incoherent. He was speaking words correctly, but they were very out of context. For some unknown reason, for the longest time his mind had fixated on numbers. They became an obsession: he'd ask her for the time endlessly; he'd speak about the time even more, mumbling disjointedly about something taking place on _'eighteen forty five hundred hours' _or something other on _'twenty four hundred hours'_. He'd mumble about _'zero three' _or _'zero four'_ and mutter angrily about _'zero two'_. He'd tell her that there was someone on her _'six' _or that she should watch out for the _'boogie at three O'clock'_. He'd often ask _'when?'_ or _'how long?'_ and she would helplessly reply that _'a week ago'_,_ 'for about ten hours'_. She would never know the context of his inquiry; _'two hundred and fifty suit?'_ he'd ask and she wouldn't know how to answer. _'Divide them between us'_, he would then tell her and she simply had to agree. Sometimes all he said were things like _'nine or eight?' _and she would reply by saying _'eight. That isn't so bad, is it? It's bearable'_, and he would nod, agreeing to something she was completely clueless about.

Hiro was extremely prone to delusions. Sometimes he'd hallucinate that she was someone else, at another time and place. Marissa often found that she had no choice but to cooperate with his fantasy, for there was no reasoning with him. She played along to the best of her abilities as to not to aggravate him further. If he spoke to her about things she knew nothing about, she'd struggle to reply in a manner that would at least appear to be reasonable, giving him answers he could interpret in any context.

She had to be very patient with him. Due to his condition Hiro was very stubborn, childish and unbearably frustrating at times. It took a lot of time and patience, not to mention more than a little ingenuity, to get him to cooperate with the doctors at the ward, but the results were well worth her trouble. Hiro slowly began taking substantial steps towards rehabilitation, all under her encouragement, aid and care. Dr. Grabelsky called her a "miracle worker" when, at the dawn of AC 198, Hiro really started to put his heart into it and actually _fought _for recovery.

He called it his _"mission"_; it became an unwavering goal he simply _had_ to achieve and excel at it. She watched proudly as he strove to achieve his goal, one step at a time. He had worked extremely hard to regain his most basic cognitive and motor skills. It was a dire, painful and demanding process. The smallest achievement required weeks of hard work, but his efforts were paying off, which only encouraged him to try harder.

His fine-movement coordination has improved greatly. His inability to distinguish objects accurately had all but vanished. Hiro could now tell the difference between many shapes and colors and he could also reach for objects and grab them if needed. The Word Blindness he had suffered from (his inability to recognize words) has also eased significantly and his listening comprehension was much better compared to when he had first arrived at the ward. He wasn't capable of understanding a conversation as well as he probably could comprehend before the head injury, but he was relearning, and fast. Thanks to many taxing months of speech therapy, he could also respond properly when spoken to. He no longer spoke in a Scanning Speech (slurring heavily and skipping words) as much as he used to a few month back and his pronunciation was much more articulate.

Even so, the road towards recovery was still long and winding. Walking, for example, was still beyond him. The injury his left leg and pelvis had suffered caused permanent damage. His left leg will be forever shorter than his right, which would most likely cause a limp. Bone plates and bolts kept his bones in place, but hurt him constantly, especially during wintertime. Physiotherapy would eventually allow him to leave his wheelchair, but the process was lengthy. The physiotherapy sessions were the hardest and most painful for him to bear. He had often surrendered to tears during sessions, either from pain or frustration. He was still prone to emotional outbursts and not once he had given up in the middle of the session, throwing a tantrum and screaming _'what's the point!'_

After a difficult and wearisome session, he would sometimes refuse to resume therapy and she would have to convince him that walking was an achievement which will be worth his while. He had asked her _'why?'_ many times, demanding a reason for his suffering and a purpose to struggle for. Being a woman of God, she often spoke to him about faith, but her words fell on deaf ears. Hiro was too bitter to consider the comfort of her religion; he thought it to be nothing more than empty promises and senseless propaganda.

Despite their different views on life, Marissa managed to find a way to reach him. She constantly reminded him of his "mission", speaking to him in terms which were meaningful to him. They planned this mission together, setting primary and secondary goals, backup plans and intermediate points which had to be achieved on the way to the prime objective of full recovery, so they could take it one step at a time. It was a concept Hiro was still struggling to grasp, for he was so keen on achieving everything at once. He was terrified of failure and deeply discouraged by it. One of the first things he had to learn was that achieving a goal took many trials and efforts.

In summation, she became a crucial part of his recovery. Both she and Grabelsky knew how vital her support was to Hiro and therefore Dr. Grabelsky agreed that she'd spend more time with him, sometimes even accompanying Hiro to various restorative treatment sessions.

She also spent most of her free time with him, a fact which angered her mother greatly, for the strict Mexican woman thought that being with Hiro denied Marissa of the opportunity of finding a husband. However, at twenty-six years of age, Marissa was not yet interested in a husband or a family. She was far more anxious to make a difference in the world, and being with Hiro, aiding him and supporting him, was doing just that. Her mother could never understand why she preferred to stay at the hospital during her free time instead of going on the blind dates she had set up for her. Marissa had long given up on trying explaining herself to her mother. The woman will never approve of the fact that being with Hiro made her feel like a better person. He needed her, and helping him was so very fulfilling.

Looking at him now, Marissa's eyes shone proudly. Hiro has come a long way. A few months back he couldn't sit vertically in his wheelchair for too long (his pelvis hurt him chronically), let alone agree that she'd wheel him out into the garden. Now, after long grueling months of physical therapy, he was capable of sitting more comfortably and even wheeling his own chair. His arms were finally strong enough to maneuver the wheelchair wherever and whenever he pleased. This freedom of movement has encouraged him greatly; one could finally see a sense of optimism in his eyes.

Also, many sessions of attention-process-exercises and various restorative cognitive treatments brought him back to the point where he was able to process and comprehend what he was reading, however slowly. She was proud of him for the progress he has made after months of depression and passiveness. He was truly remarkable for achieving so much in merely a year. Even Dr. Grabelsky mentioned that Hiro's steadfast recovery was quite exceptional and very encouraging.

"Here, I thought you'd like this better than hospital food," Marissa resumed talking. When springtime came and the weather became warmer, she had offered that they'll have their daily lunch break together in the garden. Hiro would finish his morning therapy sessions and wheel his chair out to the garden, waiting for her break time. She'd hurry to get them something to eat and rush out into the garden, not wishing to waste even a second of her lunch break so she could be with him and hear about his day.

"Have you been waiting here long?" she asked as she handed him one plastic container and a disposable fork.

Hiro shook his head as he accepted the items. While his speech has improved greatly over the past few months, he still refrained from talking whenever he could. She suspected that it was very difficult for him, perhaps even embarrassing. His speech was slow, slurred and his tone heavy; perhaps he was self-conscious about it. Not once had he grumbled that he hated sounding _'like a retard'_. Even so, his speech therapist hardly ever let him to get away with just a nod or a shrug. Dr. Malone was a persistent, stubborn and a most infuriating woman, which was probably why Hiro was able to speak so well after less than a year of therapy. He sometimes complained to Marissa about his maddening therapist who never gave him a break, squeezing the words out of him by any means, but, ironically, the only reason he was able to voice his complaints so well, was due to the very woman he often grumbled about.

"What are you reading?" Marissa asked as she opened her lunch box. "Is it a new book?"

Hiro nodded silently, frowning as he concentrated on opening the colorful container lid. He held the lunch box awkwardly in one hand, holding it up in front of his face, as he used his other hand to carefully remove the plastic lid. When that didn't work, for the plastic container was held unstably in his hand, he put it in his lap, over the book. He never would have reached this simple solution a few weeks ago and Marissa was happy to observe that now he did. He worked with two uncertain hands to uncover the lunch box. The task required the use of his impaired fine-motor skills, which demanded his utmost concentration on the delicate movement of his fingers. It took him a while, but he managed to open it. Marissa watched with amusement as he stared at the colorful dish awaiting him inside, stumped.

"Whole-wheat penne with turkey and asparagus," she explained with a smile, gesturing at the colorful pasta salad. "I saw this on the food network last night and figured I'd give it a shot."

He made a face; a frown which suggested that he didn't quite understand what she was saying, or that he was displeased. He stared at the dish lengthily and then lifted his confused gaze towards her again. His brows furrowed warily, questioning the quality and nature of her cooking. She laughed lightly at his endearing expression. He resembled a child who didn't wish to eat his vegetables. She knew that, much like a child and due to his condition, Hiro was very picky about his food.

"Just try it," she encouraged, "It's good for you."

Hiro poked the food with his fork. After three attempts or so, he managed to impale a piece of pasta and asparagus with the plastic utensil. Scowling at it, he brought it carefully to his mouth took a timid bite to taste if it was to his liking. He chewed on it thoughtfully for a while, gazing ahead numbly. After watching him for a few seconds more, assuring herself that her cooking has been approved, Marissa turned to her lunch as well.

"Horton Hears... a W-What," Hiro suddenly murmured and Marissa looked up again. For a short moment, she was confused. Then she realized that his mind was finally free to process and respond to the last question she had asked him, regarding the colorful children's book still resting in his lap.

"A Who," she corrected softly; "_What_ refers to an object and _who_ refers to a person," she explained.

Hiro nodded in dismissal, as he often did when she corrected something he already knew. She realized that he had merely mixed up the words and hadn't actually forgotten their meaning. She smiled in apology.

"I love Doctor Seuss," she commented lightly, "Do you like the book?"

Hiro offered a careless shrug and returned to concentrate on his lunch. Shrugging was a gesture he used often. When the act of speaking was too demanding, for he was too concentrated on something else, he usually resorted to body language and facial expressions. For the first few months after his arrival to the ward, gestures and expressions were his only means of communication. They were a habit which he apparently found hard to shake. On some days it was easier for him to communicate with gestures rather than verbally, especially after physiotherapy, when he was exhausted and words would fail him. However, Marissa made it her personal mission to never let him get away with a shrug instead of a full sentence.

"Why don't you like it?"

Hiro chewed on his lunch thoughtfully. "It's stupid," he said after a while.

"Because it's for children?"

She watched him struggle to impale a few slippery pieces of pasta, chasing them around the plastic lunch box with his fork. He concentrated on fishing them out of the box, insisting on poking those two particular pieces. Hiro had a tendency to fixate on things obsessively. His mind simply refused to accept failure, forcing him into endless loops of one attempt after the other, until he succeeded. Sometimes, when his efforts proved futile no matter how much he tried, Marissa had to stop him, serving the loop, and present him with another option; his damaged mind was unable to come up with an alternative on its own, imprisoning him in a continuous loop of a single action.

Hiro remained silent, focused deeply on his task. She watched him worriedly, fearing that he might be caught in such a loop. Finally, he managed to spear the food with the fork and take another bite. Now free of his fixation, he turned to her and nodded in response to her last question, indicating that he thought the book was stupid because it was meant for children.

Marissa was relieved that he broke the loop on his own. A few weeks ago he would have failed to maneuver his hand properly to pick up the food and he would have gone on and on chasing the same few pieces of pasta. She smiled, feeling proud of the progress he had made. It was the little things, these small achievements, which encouraged him the most. A perfectionist, details were crucial to him. It didn't matter if he could finally _do _something; he wasn't satisfied until he did it _just_ _right_. While his doctors constantly encouraged him by saying that he had successfully re-mastered many basic skills, Hiro only called it a success if he could manage to do it without fault.

"Well, I think it's brilliant," she argued. "Some children's books are more than what they seem."

"It's just... pra—prac—practice," Hiro muttered irritably, annoyed since he had difficulty pronouncing the word. "Big ele—elephant and... stupid… _rhymes_."

She laughed. "You have to look beyond the colorful animals and rhymes."

He turned to her with a question in his eyes, frowning slightly, asking her to clarify.

"A person's a person, no matter how small," she quoted the book, smiling wistfully. "It's the message behind the words that counts. This is a book about acceptance, about tolerance and faith. We need more books like this one in this crazy world. I know that this is one book I would one day read to my child."

Hiro regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. She could see in his eyes that he understood what she was trying to say; he simply didn't have the words to respond properly. It was hard for him to express complex thoughts. He just nodded, accepting her argument.

Despite what many seemed to think, patients recovering from brain damage were _not _stupid; they were just _hurt._ Marissa knew that the patients in the ward should not be looked down upon or considered inferior simply because they lacked the ability to act or express himself like a healthy human being. Much like she didn't appreciate people mistaking her accent for ignorance, believing that simply because she spoke with an accent she also thought with one, she knew better than to treat Hiro and other patients at the ward as though they were invalids. As Dr. Seuss had so wisely mentioned: a person was a person, no matter what. She was determined to see Hiro through the long and difficult process of recovery and she was going to treat him with the proper care and respect he – just like anyone – deserved.

"I said what I meant and I meant what I said," she spoke slowly while keeping her gaze locked on his. "An elephant's faithful one hundred percent!" she finished with a wide, affectionate, smile. Hiro frowned at her, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he struggled to comprehend her words. She smiled at him.

"It's another quote from the book," she explained. "You probably didn't get to it yet."

He sighed, looking away, troubled. "Dunno that..." he admitted quietly, bowing his head.

"What? A quote?"

Hiro shook his head. "Faithful," he murmured, shrugging helplessly.

"Oh," she let out, dumbfounded. It wasn't often when Hiro admitted to not being able to recognize a certain word. Usually, he was too stubborn or too proud to confess on such occasions, which didn't make much sense to her because she had seen him in his absolute worse, in his most vulnerable and pitiable states. For weeks she had taken care of his most basic needs, staying by his side as he struggled to relearn the most rudimentary of skills. There was nothing he should feel embarrassed or humiliated about in front of her, but still Hiro still seemed to feel awkward around her. She supposed that it was in his nature to be uncomfortable around people, especially those who tried to get close to him.

"Well, uhm, it means a number of things, I guess," she tried to explain the word to him to the best of her abilities. "You know, my English isn't that great either, so I'm no dictionary, but uh... well, I guess that in Horton's case it means that he's reliable. He's an elephant who's worthy of trust."

Hiro turned to look at her, dark anguish in his eyes. "So I'm... not?"

She frowned, struggling to understand what he meant. "You don't think you're worthy of trust?"

He huffed in annoyance, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. He got frustrated when he couldn't articulate what he wanted to say.

"I think I can't... I can't have that... anymore."

"Hiro," she spoke softly, her voice full of compassion; "Having someone to rely on is one of our most basic needs. To have faith in others and to have faith in the Lord... it helps us have faith in ourselves. It makes us strong."

He sighed, frustrated. She has failed to understand him. He shook his head, dismissing her words. He was never comfortable when she spoke about her faith. She got the feeling that he had more to say on the subject, but couldn't find the words to phrase it yet. Instead, Hiro turned to look down at the book again. He ate silently, keeping his head bowed while staring thoughtfully at the colorful book in his lap.

Marissa wished he would take the time to listen to her. She truly believed that her faith could offer him solace, heal him by filling the great dark void in his soul. Salvation rested solely on the work of God's grace for humankind. Those who believed were justified by grace through faith alone. The Holy Spirit led believers by guiding, teaching, sanctifying and filling them. If she could only make him see that, if he would only be inclined to listen, then maybe faith in the Lord Jesus could save him too.

Yet Hiro was too resentful towards God. His pain and grief denied him of accepting His Word and thus only bitterness remained in his heart. Once, a few months back, she offered to read him from the Bible, to share God's inspired, infallible Word, hoping it would offer him some consolation. Hiro didn't respond kindly to her offer and she had learned the hard way that she must choose wisely how to share her faith with him. Since then, she did her best not to impose it on him. She tried to make him see the how vital faith was to people by offering her personal point of view, speaking of how her belief benefitted her.

"I was taught to believe that our Lord works in mysterious ways," she told him; "It comforts me to know that there is a reason for everything." She reached her hand towards him, resting it soothingly on his shoulder. "I believe that one day you will find the meaning behind your ordeal."

"There's no... No m-me-mean—ing," he stuttered, shaking his head as he stared wretchedly at his lunch. "I just... Jay just wanted... It's just... my fault."

Marissa's eyes shone sadly as she watched him; he seemed so miserable, so hopeless. She wished so much she could understand what he was trying to tell her, what hurt he was trying to share.

"I know it must be difficult to see it now," she said slowly, "but I don't believe that this is all for nothing. You've made such a miraculous recovery, both physically and mentally. You have beaten every odd the doctors have given you. If that isn't a miracle, I don't know what is. And miracles happen for a reason, Hiro."

"People make mir—mir—mira—cles, not... not... _God_," he argued to the best of his abilities. She noted that his eyes shifted to glance at the silver cross pendant she wore around her neck. Hiro stared at it often; she believed that it reminded him of something, something important that he refused to share. It comforted her to know that despite their different takes on religion, he could still find meaning in the symbol of her faith.

"If not God, then at least have faith in people," she suggested softly. "They might give you the strength you need to keep pulling off miracles."

He raised his head to look at her again, his eyes shimmering strangely, telling her that she had touched his heart in some way. She wished she knew how exactly. As much as she was able to read his every expression, every minute faltering of his voice, she still couldn't comprehend the vast oceans of a thousand raw emotions raging in his Prussian blue eyes. There was just too much going on in his eyes for her to grasp. The countless blue shades forming his irises held many secrets, telling a hundred tales at once, all blending together into a deeply hurting, bottomless and mystifying blue gaze. Sometimes it hurt to look into his eyes for too long, but still she tried, hoping to be able to distinguish at least one tale, at least one secret or gain even a brief glimpse at his tortured soul, sorting his unique truth out of the blur of deep blue emotions swirling constantly in his eyes.

While she had learned about his past from piecing together things he had said at random (whether delusional, dreaming or simply confused), there was still much she did not know about him. Files regarding his past were confidential; not that she was allowed to know even that much, but she had overheard Dr. Grabelsky speak about it. Once, she had even seen a Preventer agent in Grabelsky's office and she was certain that they were discussing Hiro. There was an air of mystery around the young man, a forbiddance of sorts, which made the mystery even more alluring.

After a tense moment, Hiro broke eye contact, looking away bleakly. He stared ahead at the bushes across the lawn, where two yellow butterflies danced around one another in a mating ritual.

"There's... no need for... mira—cles now," he whispered wistfully, sorrowfully. "Used to be, but..." he sighed, shaking his head sadly; "He just... just... he... I can't have it anymore," Hiro concluded miserably, casting his gaze down to his lap as he shrugged helplessly. "It's my fault."

Marissa's smile faded. Hiro still had difficulty phrasing flowing and logical sentences. His mind tended to wander, jumping from one thought to another in a long stream of associative topics only he was able to connect. There was much clutter left in his mind by the head injury and his logic was hard to follow at times. Still, she could clearly sense his despair. She understood that he spoke of a lack of purpose, of loneliness and abandonment. Even without knowing the exact nature of the "miracles" he once managed to perform, or exactly who were the people who abandoned him, Marissa still knew enough to understand his pain and sympathize with him. She knew well of hurt, abandonment and betrayal. Her father had abandoned her family soon after they arrived to the US and was never heard from again. She was only thirteen at the time and she still felt that his abandonment was her fault.

Her eyes shone sadly, feeling for the boy. She reached a hand up to pet his hair gently, tucking a stray lock behind his ear, but he pulled away, tilting sideways to avoid her touch. She drew her hand back, feeling awkward. Sometimes, she simply didn't know how to comfort him. Hiro was a very complex individual, torn between his need for compassion and his fear of it. His heart was frail. Past hurt and betrayal have left his heart hurting with both a deep longing for and dread of human kindness. The contradiction was a painful one to bear. His heart threatened to break each time he was faced with either of those powerful emotions. Sometimes, her comfort eased that hurt; however most of the time, she was only stirring his dread of closeness. She never ceased trying though, hoping one day he will respond with acceptance rather than recoil back with dismay.

"I know you'll get through this," she assured him, hoping her words didn't fall on deaf ears. "And in the meanwhile," she smiled softly as she took his hand in hers, "You can have faith in me. I'll help you pull off at least one more miracle. You can count on me," she promised and squeezed his hand gently. Her assurance had to be spoken simply and honestly; otherwise, he would fail to grasp it.

Hiro did not respond. His gaze was now fixed on the book on his lap and the glazed-over look in his eyes suggested that he was somewhere far away. Marissa sighed, regretting that he might have not heard her promise. Then, much to her surprise, Hiro curled his fingers gently around her hand, returning the tender squeeze. He didn't turn to face her, perhaps shying away from the sudden intimacy, but at least he heard her. He accepted her promise, and that was enough for now.

Marissa's smile returned to her lush red lips. She responded by entwining her fingers with his. She looked down at their joined hands, relishing in the sight of his pale dainty fingers against the tanned palm of her hand. Her gaze lingered on the hospital-tag around Hiro's bony wrist. He seemed so frail... she had a very strong urge to hold him, to look after him when no one else did. She squeezed his hand once more, trying to convey emotions she wouldn't dare put into words.

* * *

><p>Philadelphian summer was hot and muggy. The air conditioning at the ward was working around the clock to battle the unbearable heat and humidity. The flowers in the garden had wilted due to the scorching sun. The elegant white stone benches were now too hot to sit on during lunchtime; one could cook their lunch on them if needed. However, inside the ward's large hydrotherapy center, the air was cool and refreshing. A large indoor swimming pool provided both a place for Aquatic Physiotherapy and a cool environment for some of the staff to escape to during lunchtime. Nurses who were not a part of the physiotherapy staff were not allowed in the pool and had to settle for sitting around it as they had lunch. Marissa, however, was always an exception.<p>

Wearing a navy-blue one-piece swimsuit over her full-feminine figure, the young Hispanic nurse stood inside the pool, the cool water reaching just below her chest. Her dark wavy hair was gathered into a thick ponytail, its curly edges floating in the water like a fan, swayed by gentle ripples. Wet locks of hair framed her lovely face. Her long curls dripped water onto the sterling silver necklace she wore around her long neck; the droplets streamed down the silver cross pendant and disappeared into her tanned and bountiful cleavage.

She was standing between two metal rails which formed a runway across the long pool. Hiro stood a few dozen feet ahead of her, at the center of the shallow pool, holding onto both rails for support. He was dressed in a simple pair of swim-trunks, his untrimmed hair and long bangs wet and dripping water onto his naked torso. He had just finished a daily session of hydrotherapy when Marissa joined him in the pool for some extra practice. She promised to treat him to whatever he'd like for lunch if he could manage to make three more laps back and forth across the pool. While exhausted from a day of physical therapy, Hiro was nevertheless up for the challenge. Stubborn and proud as he was, nowadays, he hardly ever refused a dare.

He had just completed his second round across the pool and was halfway through the third when his pace began to slow considerably, until he stopped right there at the middle of the pool, panting and trembling with exhaustion.

"Tired?" Marissa asked worriedly; her voice echoed within the large indoor pool dome, drawing the attention of a few nurses who were chatting by the poolside. After glaring briefly at the two nosy nurses, Hiro turned back to Marissa and shook his head stubbornly. His breathing was labored to the point of speechlessness, but the look in his eyes said it all: he was not ready to give up just yet. He'll see the challenge through, much like he always did.

"Come on Hiro, you can do it," she encouraged. She felt bad for pushing him so hard, but she had learned that it was just what he needed to hear. "Just a few more steps," she added with a sympathetic smile. "C'mon, get going already! I'm _starving_," she added playfully, trying to wound his pride for it usually motivated Hiro to push himself even harder.

It's been months since she had last seen Hiro give up in the middle of a physiotherapy session, no matter how difficult the session might be for his feeble body. Restorative and cognitive therapy were also getting more challenging as his skills improved and he was pushed harder to relearn what he had lost. Thankfully, Hiro no longer quit cooperating when the sessions got too demanding. Quite the contrary, he seemed to thrive on challenge, especially now, when he was finally able to achieve the goals he set for himself. His past childish and petulant behavior has eased significantly. She was able to reason with him as one adult to another more often. He was maturing, healing and growing stronger progressively. She was feeling prouder of him with each passing day.

"If you won't make it over here, you can forget all about those pancakes you wanted," she called out with a taunting smirk.

Hiro glared at her defiantly. "I want—" he coughed, still out of breath, "—you promised a—a burger," he wheezed, though he was still glaring at her in defiance, daring her to tell him to call it quits.

"Right," Marissa laughed and raised her hands up in surrender. Earlier, when she first dared him to make three more rounds, Hiro asked for pancakes. It seemed that he forgot about it, which was not uncommon for him; he was quite forgetful.

"Burgers it is," she repeated with a playful smile. "That is, _if_ you can walk over here."

Hiro nodded, accepting the challenge. Taking a deep breath, he curled his fists tightly around the rails by his sides and slowly, carefully, resumed walking towards her. He was limping, even under water, a sign that his body had reached its limit for the day. She knew that his left leg and pelvis must be hurting him badly by now. While the water did make walking possible for him, allowing him to stand on his own two feet by reducing the weight of his body, coordinating his legs was still a tiring process which demanded much concentration and caused great physical strain. He was yet unable to stand without the support of the rails, and after over an hour of walking back and forth inside the pool, it was no small wonder that he was so exhausted. Still, Marissa knew better than to show him pity and convince him to back down. She had faith in him; she knew he would complete the task without a single compliant. The sense of accomplishment he will gain by doing so was well worth the price of hurting for a while longer.

By the time Hiro managed to cover the distance between them, lunch break was over and the staff lounging around the pool had long returned to their posts. Marissa also had to return to her shift, but Hiro was far more important than cleaning another bedpan or two. Dr. Grabelsky seemed to cut her much slack when it came to Hiro.

The young man finally reached the edge of the pool. He stood in front of her, barley a feet away, leaning heavily against the rail to his right. He was panting hard, his chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. His arms had grown a bit muscular after months of physiotherapy and maneuvering his wheelchair around, though they now shook from the strain of supporting his body against the rails for so long. For a moment she thought he was about to topple over before he steadied himself again. His damp bangs clung to his forehead, still dripping water from when he had stumbled into the pool a few times when his legs had given way. He reached a shaky hand up to push the wet bangs out of his eyes. His pale features were wet; large clear droplet streamed slowly down his cheeks, nose and chin. His lips were parted slightly, drawing in a lung full of air.

He looked at her, a strange shine in his unreadable blue eyes. Standing so close to him, dressed only in a skintight swimsuit, Marissa felt terribly exposed. His eyes bore holes into her very being, daring her to turn away from what she saw within the wild, bottomless, Prussian blue oceans. While others would have felt compelled to look away from such a potent and overwhelming gaze, forced to turn away or else they'd drown, she could not shift her eyes away from his alluring eyes.

She saw triumph in his eyes; she could tell he felt proud of himself, finally in control. A sense of dominance radiated from him: intense, masculine and strong. Suddenly, she no longer saw him as a young, lost and confused boy coming out of his teens. Looking at him now, Marissa was suddenly highly aware of him as a man.

She stood quietly before him, listening to him struggle to catch his breath. Her eyes were drawn to his chest as it moved hastily up and down. Her gaze slowly blurred as she stared lengthily at the thin layer of dark damp hairs clinging to his upper body; an obvious sign of his emerging manhood she had witnessed developing over the past year and a half. Inadvertently, her gaze traveled down his torso, studying him quietly.

Hiro has gained some healthy weight; he was no longer as skeletally thin as he had been when he had first been transferred to the ward. He was still quite slim, but no longer so frail-looking. His formerly pale complexion has also improved; his skin-tone has gained a healthy golden hue after the many days they had spent together in the garden, washed by pleasant sunlight.

He was very handsome. She had noticed that before, but never on a sexual level. She never looked at him that way, always clinically detached while tending to him. However, looking at him now, Marissa soon became aware of her own heavy breathing. Her breasts were moving heavily up and down, tingling with arousal as her eyes traveled down his torso.

His body was perfectly proportioned; built magnificently as though designed with purpose. There was an exotic quality to his good looks, undoubtedly due to cross-cultural marriage or genetic manipulation, which was very popular among parents in the AC era. His Prussian blue eyes were exceptional, evidence of his exotic decent. She loved how they now shone so lively, like jewels reflecting his unique and brilliant spirit. He hardly ever smiled, however on the rare occasions she had the privilege of seeing a hint of a smile tug at his lips, she indulged in how his Prussian blue eyes lit up, shimmering vividly. The extraordinary sight would have won over anyone's heart, for it told of his benevolence, valor and strength; it told of a spirit which could not be beaten.

Much like the ancient look in his eyes, Hiro's body also told of experiences far beyond his eighteen years of age. His body was still that of a young man approaching twenty; however his scarred flesh was evidence of more than a lifetime of hardship he had endured in his short existence. Scar-tissue marred vast areas of his torso where skin had been slashed and scorched. Old burn marks distorted large areas on his right side, marring his right shoulder blade, armpit and his upper waist. Deep slashes he had suffered had left their marks on his abdomen and chest in a crisscross display of thin white scars, the longest one running slantwise across his entire chest. His skin was littered with small jagged round scars – marks she recognized as old cigarette burns. Another small round scar, evidence of a gunshot wound, tarnished his right shoulder as well.

His body bore many more marks of the harsh punishments he had been subjected to over the years. She could still vividly recall the first time she had bathed him, running a warm sponge over his frail body as he had lain motionless on his bed, mortified and disgraced. She had discovered many old scars that evening. The most dreadful one was a long, purplish-red scar across the right crease of his groin. It was a smooth, clean cut. Its reddish shade suggested that it was inflicted on him about a year or two ago, for the scar hadn't turned white yet. It marred the pale skin of Hiro's groin as a testimonial of something too dreadful to grasp. Marissa's heart had caved with compassion when she had first seen it. She couldn't get the sight of it out of her head since, always aware of its presence, of the horrifying tale it told.

Each scar on Hiro's body told a different horror story, a collection of mysteries which made him who he was. Much like his soul, Hiro's body had been beaten, abused and yet – never completely broken. She admired him for that; she admired him for struggling, for his resolve to choose life despite the pain. Looking at him standing before her, exhausted yet content, Marissa found that his newly regained inner-strength, his new sense of purpose and determination made him ever more alluring.

"Rissa?" he breathed her name quietly, undoubtedly confused by her gawking at him for so long. It was an affectionate nickname he had adopted for her a few months back and she loved hearing it whispered by his gentle tone. She used to hate the name _Rissa_, because that was how her father called her before he split. Now she found herself waiting longingly for the rare intimate moments when Hiro felt comfortable enough to use her nickname. Sometimes, she even wished that he would whisper it in her ear...

Ashamed of herself, Marissa finally averted her eyes away from him and stared down at the water. The weight of the silver cross she wore around her neck suddenly felt ten times heavier. She imagined feeling it scorch the skin above her breasts, punishing her for sinful thoughts. He was only eighteen... and so clueless about everything. His heart was too frail; touching it might bring it to shatter completely.

"I bet you're hungry," she murmured quietly, feeling the heat of blushing on her cheeks. When he didn't reply, she dared look up at him again. He was studying her quietly, a thoughtful shine in his eyes.

"We should go eat," she added, her voice faltering slightly. She berated her foolish girlish behavior. She was a twenty-six year old woman, not a damn high-school girl! Seeing him in swim-trunks shouldn't have such an effect on her, not after she had bathed him so many times! And yet, she couldn't help but suddenly react to him as a woman reacted to a man. Embarrassed, she turned around to face the pool coping.

"I'll go get your chair," she said and placed her hands on the rim, preparing to lift herself out of the pool. She felt the water shift around her as Hiro took a step closer to stand directly behind her, almost at a hair's breadth. His close proximity was solid and intense;_ electrifying_. Her whole body tingled. She shivered slightly, Goosebumps forming on her tanned skin as she imagined feeling his body heat against her despite the cold water.

Even though she wasn't facing him, she felt him in every cell of her body. He was slightly taller than her, not enough to tower above her, but still enough to make her feel engulfed by his powerful presence. She swallowed, trying to control her breathing. She didn't turn to face him, fearing that he might catch a glimpse of her sinful thoughts just by looking into her eyes. She waited for him to say something, to do _anything_, but he just stood there; being close, so very close...

"I'll call Mike to help you out of the water," she said, still facing the edge of the pool. Hiro didn't reply verbally, but she knew that he had heard her and that he would wait for the orderly. She also knew that she was confusing him, but she didn't know what to do about it; she was confused herself.

Using two arms as leverage, Marissa heaved herself out of the water. She could feel his intense gaze on her as she did. She did not dare to turn around and look, but she indulged in the thought that he might be looking at her behind as she exited the pool. The thought excited her and she shamelessly swayed her hips as she went to bring his wheelchair and call the orderly on duty.

God would surely punish her for this. Hiro was still too young, too inexperienced to answer her sinful lust. Despite his immense strength of mind, his heart was far too fragile, young. He wasn't ready to deal with her immoral needs.

She feared for him. Hiro was already heartbroken; she didn't wish to hurt him further. And yet, she couldn't ignore the selfish need to gently hold his beautiful heart in her hands, to cradle it lovingly and protect it from harm. If given the chance to love him in her lifetime, Marissa was willing to suffer for her sins in the afterlife. That was how precious he was to her. If her love could offer him salvation of any kind, then Marissa was willing to let her eternal soul burn in fires of Hell. May Christ forgive her, but as far as she was concerned, Hiro was well worth paying the price for a love formed in iniquity.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in Chapter 11: Hiro:<strong>

oOo

He remembered sleeping under the stars after leaving the MO2 satellite. He remembered crying...

oOo

Broken; he had been broken. Duo broke him and now he couldn't be fixed.

oOo

He coughed, fighting off the persistent bile. Thoughts of Duo always did this to him. They raised the filth to an unbearable level.

oOo


End file.
